Oh, Brother!
by TheFABFive2015
Summary: TAG 2015. An ongoing series of stories where Scott is left to ask that immortal question - why me?
1. Strawberry Blond

Well, I'm venturing into new territory here, and trying my hand at something different - all stories in their own right, but all revolving around one main theme.

As you'll see from its cover (just _love_ that scene!) they'll feature those moments when Scott is left to ask himself that age old question - why me? Or those equally numerous times when he's sure the whole universe is against him.

As always, these stories will be based on the TAG 2015 characters - not just as they appear in its episodes, but in their younger years too. And I know Gordon is seen as blond, instead of the redhead he was in the original series. But to me, he's more strawberry blond, and when my plot bunnies caught hold of that thought... well, they couldn't resist having a bit of fun.

As always, though, it's poor Scott who gets caught in the crossfire. Sorry, Scooter, but as the world's most long suffering big brother, you're just so adorable!

So, here we go, with my first Wee!Tracys story. I hope you enjoy it - and any suggestions will always be welcome!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter One - Strawberry Blond

" _Scotty_! Scotty, _hellllp_... quick, you've - you've _gotta_ help me!"

Just as they'd done for so much of his life, those words brought Scott Tracy to his feet like a rocket. Not even bothering to pick up the pad that had gone flying off his lap, he turned with the same speed towards Alan's voice - just in time to see his youngest brother barrel into the den.

" _Alan_? What the he-?"

Damn, he didn't even have time to ask that question before Gordon appeared. Not his usual, cheery happy self either. Instead, a pint sized tornado with a face like a thundercloud homed in on his brother with all the accuracy of his toy submarine's missiles.

"Alan! Alan Shepard Tracy, you get out here... _right now_!"

Yeah, like _that_ was going to happen. And with his peaceful reading ruined, Scott wasn't in the mood for brotherly bloodshed either. Gently catching Gordon's arm as he tried to dodge past him, he then placed himself between one visibly livid twelve year old, and his genuinely frightened brother.

" _Whoa_! Hey, Gords, just calm down... come on, now, _cool it_... _both_ of you."

For several moments, the craziest game of tag continued, as Gordon tried to grab any part of his little brother that he could reach. Finally, though, he realized that nothing, and no-one, could get past his big brother's defences, and he stepped back - settling instead for a silent, seething glare. Still clinging to Scott's legs like his life depended on it, Alan's face was a study of freaked out confusion.

Even so, Scott still kept his strategic position - using every inch of his height to keep them apart. Even in a household of five, rapidly growing brothers, fights like this were thankfully rare, but when one _did_ erupt - hell, Krakatoa at its worst had _nothing_ on Tracy Island. And whatever Alan had done to upset his brother could never be worth the tears that still streaked his face, it was surely just a -

\- oh, good grief.

As he finally saw what had happened, Scott had to bite back a lousily timed urge to laugh. Earlier that morning, he'd watched Alan carry a big bowl of strawberries towards his bedroom - further intrigued by his 'special project for science class.' Safe in the knowledge that you couldn't make strawberries explode, he'd left him to it, and... ye-ah. Lesson learned, and mystery solved.

"Okay, that's better," he said at last, using this short statement to see if he could talk yet without bursting into giggles. Giving himself a few more moments, just to make sure, he then gently coaxed Alan out from his hiding place, and fixed him with as stern a look as his amusement allowed.

"Okay, Alan, you... uh, want to tell me what you've done to your brother?"

At any other time, of course, those big blue eyes, and butter-wouldn't-melt innocence, might have worked. But with so much evidence stacked against him, including one thoroughly strawberried brother, the youngest member of the family really had no choice but to come clean.

"Hey, it - it was Gordy's fault! _He's_ the one who said it!"

Still standing like a human Colossus between them, Scott visibly cringed. Yep, from the death defying bravado of a ten year old, an already fragile truce erupted back into howling warfare.

"Hey, I didn't say _anything_! _You're_ the one who dumped all this goo on my head!"

With both hands now struggling to keep them apart, Scott had to resort to other means to get their attention. As a piercing whistle rose through the den, every animal on the island pricked up its ears, and instantly stopped what it was doing.

To his relief, it had the same effect on two wriggling brothers. Still wincing from this assault on their delicate ears, two puzzled faces stared up at him - putting that legendary self control back under serious threat. Yeah, the less he said right now, the better.

" _Alan_."

It never ceased to amaze him that just one word, in that tone of voice, could have such a startling effect. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, his youngest brother started singing like a humanised canary.

"Well, we - we were just talking about our hair colours, 'cos we're covering that in science class... and I told Gordy he was like John, 'cos he's got red hair too, and - and..."

Glancing uncertainly at his now thankfully calmer sibling, Alan then frowned as his biggest big brother pulled one of his famous big brother faces. He'd made a funny noise too, kinda between a cough and a hiccup, but... well, Scotty was _always_ doing that.

"...anyway, Gordon said he wasn't a _real_ redhead, 'cos Miss Phillips had told him he's a strawberry blond, that's _kinda_ like a redhead... but Gordy wants to have _really_ red hair, like John, and... well..."

"...you thought you'd just... uh, help him out..." Scott finished for him, gratefully releasing a chuckle of laughter before the effort of containing it caused him to explode.

Even if it was still smeared with Eau de Strawberry, Gordon was struggling to keep his face straight too now, and as for Alan... hell, he really didn't trust himself to see what _his_ face looked like right now. Instead, with order thankfully restored, he gave both of them a gentle nudge towards each other.

"Well, there's no harm done that a good shower won't fix, so what d'you say? Allie? You wanna go first?"

More upset now than scared, Alan nodded - the study of contrition as he sidled up to Gordon's side, and peered shyly up at him from under his fringe.

"'m sorry, Gordy... I was only trying to make your hair like John's, like you said you wanted..."

"Hey, it's okay, Squirt... like Scott said, there's nothing a nice shower won't fix," Gordon grinned, all anger forgotten now in a big brother hug, and his own apology. "And I'm sorry I yelled at you, I was just... well, kinda looking forward to trying those strawberries myself."

"We _all_ were, Gords," Scott agreed, throwing another pointed glance towards Alan, and not at all surprised to see that ' _I-know-something-you-don't_ ' grin on his youngest brother's face. Yeah, like every ten year old that had gone before him, this kid had an answer for everything.

"Hey, no sweat! I didn't use _all_ of them, just... you know, enough that I needed."

Uh oh. There was something in that bright eyed grin that made Scott cringe again in silent dread. Jeez, how could a bowl of humble strawberries cause so much havoc?

*CRR-ASHH*

"Oww! _Damn_ it!"

A pause, followed by a roar that scared every bird on the island clear across the Pacific. A few, boot-thomping seconds later, Virgil came storming into the den. Evidential bucket still swinging from his hand, and its contents still dripping down his face, he threw a squinted glare towards two dumbstruck brothers, and one evilly grinning genius.

"Right," he growled, with as much dignity as those tides of red mulch allowed. "Which of you three jokers thought _this_ was gonna be funny?!"


	2. Creature Comforts

So, just one chapter into this ongoing series, and poor Scott's already up against it. How do you think I'm going to make him suffer in this next little instalment? Well, read on, and find out!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Two - Creature Comforts

There were times when little brothers just didn't appreciate all the effort you made to help them. In Scott Tracy's case... well, discounting the next two in immediate line, he still had two others to cope with. And just to keep to kid brother tradition, Alan was more of a handful than John, Virgil and Gordon put together.

Oh, getting him to _go_ to bed wasn't a problem. It was getting him to stay _in_ the damn thing that, short of tying him into it, was inexplicably impossible.

Leaning in the doorway to his youngest brother's room, Scott studied the familiar scene in front of him with an equally familiar smile. Yes, the pint sized bane of his life had done it again. And for such a little squirt... yeah, that little squirt was surprisingly tricky to lift. Especially when he was stretched out on his stomach, and the only way to pick him up was to go under that part of him that was really, _really_ , ticklish.

Faced yet again with this nightly dilemma, he still found it impossible not to smile. What was it with this kid, and his love of sleeping on the floor? There was a perfectly good bed, a massive one, at that, just a couple of feet away from him. Any lingering, fresh-out-the-cellophane hardness had been thoroughly trampolined out of it, and yet... no, night after night when he called in to check on him, he'd always find his brother stretched out beside it.

Poking him wouldn't do any good either. Gordon had tried that once before, and received a flailing whack in the face for his trouble. Yes, a sleeping Tracy was an unpredictable beast - especially when its dreams pitted him against invading zombies. Or rib-poking brothers.

What surprised him even more was how comfy he looked. Sprawled on his stomach, his face pillowed by two crossed over hands, he looked... well, everything a little brother was supposed to look. Blissfully content, deceptively innocent - and impossibly cute.

Still smiling, Scott toyed with the idea of calling Virgil in to get Sleeping Cutie back into bed. After all, such a deadweight body would be a lot easier to lift from its more reachable ends. But then he decided against it, and settled instead to just enjoy this rare and precious moment. And since Alan couldn't be bothered to use it, he'd just sit here on the edge of his bed, to contemplate in comfort.

Of course, Alan wasn't the only one with these little night-time quirks. And, in his case, Scott was more than happy to keep _his_ sleeping habits as quiet as possible.

Yeah, right. Like he'd _ever_ be that lucky.

Apparently - and yes, _of course_ there'd been photos to prove it - _he_ slept like his beloved 'bird. Flat on his back, his feet angled out like her thrusters, while his arms perfectly mimicked her wings. Even in deepest sleep, he was still up there, soaring through the sky. Grace and power in perfect harmony. Every pilot's dream.

Needless to say, he'd been pretty happy with that - right until Gordon had pointed out that he also looked like a flying squirrel.

That, he thought through a rueful smile, had kinda ruined the moment. And it hadn't taken any kind of genius to work out who'd bought him that stuffed equivalent for his next birthday. Still, it could have been worse. At least he hadn't looked like a giant tarantula.

John's sleeping habits had been a bit trickier to pin down. As far as Scott could remember, he'd always been boringly normal. The only sign of weirdness, and Scott knew he was really reaching for it here, had been the books that had always been found wedged on his chest - his finger marking the place he'd reached before sleep had defeated his insatiable curiosity.

Now stationed up in Thunderbird Five, he'd thought he was safe from this latest round of sibling silliness. But that _'I'm-up-here-where-you-can't-see-me'_ smugness hadn't lasted for long. Thanks to some subtle 'help' from EOS, the brainiac formerly known as The Bookworm now held a new, and still ruefully protested nickname.

" _For the last time, Alan... no, I am not an Intergalactic Batman_..."

Virgil's, though... well, they'd been a snap. Bear by size, and bear by nature.

Yes, Virgil Grissom Tracy _loved_ his sleep. Deep in his cave of bedclothes, the only way to tell which end was which was to lift one side of them up. If you were lucky, you'd find two Sasquatch sized feet. However tempted you were, though, the far greater sense of self preservation would stop you from tickling them. If you did, or if you lifted those covers from the wrong end... well, a warning growl soon told you to put the covers back down, _real_ slow, and _real_ careful - then run for your life.

He could hibernate, too, through everything the world's weather could throw at him. Thunder, lightning, and sub-tropical storms? Nope, he'd barely bat an eyelid. Hell, the only thing that _could_ wake him up was an emergency callout, and... yeah, that left him kinda cranky. As Scott had dryly noted, the safest way to pass him a rousing mug of coffee was at the end of a _really_ long pole.

Gordon, too, could sleep like the proverbial... squid. Yes, what he lacked in height or width, he more than made up for with arms and hands. At full stretch, his fingers would poke out from under the bedclothes, twitching for whatever prey his dreaming subconscious was trying to find. More than once, his eldest brother had needed to prise a dangling piece of clothing from their grip. As much as they all loved their midnight munchies, Scott honestly doubted whether a mouthful of sock would feature much on the menu.

Of course, that often went for Alan, too, and... ye-ah. Now he understood how both of them could ruefully compare Grandma's cooking to the taste of feet. When he wasn't around to stop them, they'd clearly snuck in some subconscious practice, and... aaah. Talk of the devil, his little carpet-hugger was off for a bit of late night foraging.

And on the menu tonight? Well, not socks, thank God, but... oh, he _had_ to be kidding!

Staring at the head that was now pillowed snugly on his left foot, Scott rolled his eyes. Yep, even in sleep, you couldn't keep a Tracy from his food.

"Alan? Hey, Allie, you've... uh, gotta stop that."

Answered by a muffled snore, but no sign of compliance, he leaned over - protecting as many whackable parts that he could reach with one hand, while shaking an upturned shoulder with the other.

"Hey, Squirt, you're _eating my shoelace_."

"Mmmnnnfffnn...s...n'ce..."

Eyes that had been born to roll did another turn around their sockets. Hmm, Shoelace Spaghetti. Yeah, there was something new for Grandma to try. God knew, it couldn't taste worse than what she tortured them with already.

More convinced than ever now, that he'd done something seriously bad in a previous life, Scott slid his foot sideways while easing himself just as carefully off the bed. Kneeling beside his brother, he then snugged an arm under each end, and lifted him with the same infinite care into his bed.

And the thanks he received, for this selfless devotion? Well, all things considered, he couldn't complain - because Alan was already snuggling against his side, so happily and so contentedly that Scott just didn't have the heart to stop him. Instead, he brushed an ever tousled fringe back from Alan's face, and smiled at the sleepy grin he found there.

Yes, if he _had_ to be a damn squirrel, and John a bat, and Virgil a bear, and Gordon a squid, then this little bundle of trouble just had to be -

"...love you, Scott..."

\- every baby animal you could think to name, with all the _'I'm-just-too-cute-for-words'_ adorability to match.

Still cherishing that thought, Scott watched his brother drift back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Once sure that he'd settled, he closed his own eyes, and allowed himself to do the same. Even if it disrupted his own night's rest, moments like this would just _always_ be worth it.


	3. Breakfast, Tracy Style

Oh, these are getting to be fun!

Now, the first two stories in this series have been pretty long. This is much shorter - just my thoughts on what breakfast in the Tracy household might be like.

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Three - Breakfast, Tracy Style

Breakfast was usually Scott's favourite time of day. Always the first to rise, he'd go out for his morning run, work up that famous appetite, then take full advantage of the peace and quiet to sit in the kitchen, and devour whatever took his fancy.

If he said so himself, he could turn out a pretty mean stack of pancakes, wasn't too shabby with waffles either, and... ooooooh, his stomach _worshipped_ him for the occasional treat of bacon and eggs, mopped up with a tower of toast.

At least, that's what he'd do if he was lucky, and four hibernating brothers stayed obediently in their beds. But when Virgil wanted to paint yet another spectacular sunrise, or when Gordon and Alan were... well, just being Gordon and Alan, the Tracy family kitchen could get a little -

*ping*

*thoomp*

"...hey, come on, you two! I'm trying to work here!"

"...aww, chill out, ya big bear... we're just testing Alan's new theory!"

"...and what's that? The number of ways his big brother can hang him from the ceiling?"

\- hazardous to your health -

"...hey, _cool_! I get to try Brains' new suction boots!"

\- not to mention your sanity.

*ping*

*splop*

"...hey, you got it right in the bowl that time!"

"...yeah, who knew Wheaty Pops were so aerodynamic?!"

But still usefully educational.

"... _especially_ when they stick in Grizzly Bear's hair!"

"WHAAT? Where?!"

*ping*

" _Hey_!"

"...oooooh, _bullseye_!"

And... well, yes, even if you didn't dare say it, pretty entertaining too.

"...whoo, right on target, and... ooooh, you think if he opens it wide enough, we'll get one right in his mouth?"

"...yeah, that'd be _really_ cool, and... uh oh... he's, um, looking kinda mad now..."

"...going for his weapon..."

"...what, his _paintbrush_?"

"...Alan, it's got _paint_ on it..."

"...well, _duh_... that's what you usually get on a paintbrush, and... _hey!_ That tickles!"

"...hey, Allie, you've got some new freckles!"

"...I don't _want_ new freckles, and... aww, c'mon, Virg! It - It was _his_ idea!"

"...hey, no, it wasn't! It was _your_ science class!"

"Science, you say? Well, I'm all for helping out with that!"

"Hey, put me down, and... _Scott_! Hey, _Scott_ , tell him to put me down, and... aww, Virg, can't - can't you take a joke?!"

"Sure I can! _Especially_ when it helps with your education!"

"But I've got paint all over my face!"

"Yeah, so you have... no problem, Squirt, I can help with that too. Get you all nice and clean again, _real_ fast."

"Awwww, _nooooooo_!"

"Oh, _YESSSS_!"

"Gyaaarghhhhhhhh!"

*KAA-WHOOOSH*

"Yep, now you can tell your science teacher that kid brothers are pretty aerodynamic too."

"Aww, _Viiiiir-gil_! Hey, come on, Gordy, quit laughing like you're gonna break a rib, and get me outta here!"

Yes, those were the mornings when Scott Tracy retreated to his room, climbed into his bed, and burrowed under its covers, because... well, sometimes, that was just the safest place to be.


	4. Is There A Doctor In The House?

Aww, poor Scott! The suffering just doesn't stop for him, does it? And yes, you've guessed it - there's more to come in this latest slice of silliness.

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Four - Is There A Doctor In The House?

Engrossed in his latest book, Scott double-taked what he'd just seen waddle past his couch. Blinked, then frowned, then sat up and stared. Damn, it wasn't even lunchtime yet, and... ye-ah. It was gonna be one of _those_ days.

 _'Oh, lucky me_.'

Four clear months before Hallowe'en, Tracy Island had been invaded by two miniaturised mummies, and... no, whatever the cost to his sanity, he just _had_ to ask.

"So, um... what're you guys up to?"

 _'Aside from things I just don't want to know about._ '

Yeah, wasn't that the truth? And was he buying any of this 'who, me?' innocence? Like hell he was. He'd never buy it from one of these tiny terrors, let alone both of them - especially when Gordon offered him the kind of grin that said _'I am the Devil incarnate_ ' in all the world's languages.

"Nothing, Scott, we're... um... just helping Virgil with his doctoring."

'Helping' Virgil with his doct-... oh, good grief.

From such an innocuous reply, all sorts of scenarios ran through Scott's mind. For all sorts of reasons, not least his calming nature and Thunderbird Two's capacity for passengers, Virgil had been the most obvious choice to be their 'medic responder.' He'd taken to it like a natural, too, breezing through the tests that gave him far more skills and abilities than basic first aid.

With the bedside manner to match, he was the closest thing they had to a doctor. Took all such responsibilities _really_ seriously, and... well, from what he could see now, Scott was getting a _really_ bad feeling. Not to mention one of his 'why me?' headaches, that would only get worse from what he had to ask next.

"By dressing up as... _mummies_?!"

Two puzzled faces stared back at him as if he still lived with dinosaurs, and... yup, he was _definitely_ getting old. He had the first grey hairs to prove it. But then Gordon, bless his sweet little bandaged soul, came to his woefully uncool brother's rescue.

"Well, no... we were just taking turns at being patients, but then we..."

"...found these old bandages... and look, they're all frayed already!" Alan finished for him, happily demonstrating that, yes, some tatty old practice dressings _did_ make for some pretty cool mummification. But then his next words turned his eldest brother's half smile into a full sized wince.

"And you think _we_ make great mummies? Virgil's even better!"

"Yeah, 'cos he's so much bigger," Gordon agreed, taking his turn for a scarily good impression of a newly revived zombie. "He even growls like one... you know, like this... grroowwwyywoyyrrr."

Oh, God.

Torn between bursting into laughter and joining John in Thunderbird Five, Scott took a deep breath. Used another to count straight from one to ten, because... well, skipping the whole two to nine thing just saved him so much time. And, God knew, he'd had the practice. Then, once sure he had himself under reasonable control, he folded his arms and gave 'The Look' its latest outing.

"Okay, where is he?"

Thrown by this devilish tactic, Mummy One threw an uneasy glance towards Mummy Two. Another equally familiar moment between them that simply said -

" _GNYYAAARRRRRGGHHLLLLLLL_!"

\- run for your life.

As two little bodies shot towards the stairs, so Scott found himself transfixed again, by one that was... well, bigger than both of them put together. And even if he'd never risk his life by admitting it aloud... damn, this was priceless!

Wrapped from head to toe in tatty old muslin, the only part of Virgil that he could fully recognize were tufts of hair sticking out the top. Just enough of a gap around his face for two narrowed eyes to glare back at him. And he had to admit, too, that Gordon had been right about the growl. Ye-ah, uh... _very_ authentic.

"NOT... A... WORD."

A word? With his brother in _this_ kind of mood? Hell, not even _he_ was that suicidal. Hell, if he so much as breathed too loudly, there'd be bloodshed - most of it probably his. Instead, Scott just raised his hands, offering his brother the kind of smile that silently said "... _now you know how I_ _feel_..." and watched said brother make his waddling way towards the stairs.

Even then, he waited until Virgil wasn't just safely out of earshot, but safely outside too, before he gave in to the inevitable, and collapsed onto the couch. For several clear minutes, the fearless head of International Rescue laughed like a lunatic - right until the moment when something went 'ping' between his fourth and fifth rib.

He was still giggling like a loon when he finally sat up and, clutching his side, made his way down to the kitchen. For a moment, he considered calling the family doctor to ease his suffering ribs, but... no. No, just this once, he'd do his own bit of doctoring, because - well, he'd live longer that way.


	5. It's A Jungle Out There

Hee, can you tell how much I'm enjoying writing these? Now, so far, poor Virgil's been on the receiving end just as much as Scott. But this time, it's his turn to make life hell for the world's most long suffering big brother.

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Five - It's A Jungle Out There

Scott Tracy's courage knew no limits. Surfing on top of his 'bird while a thousand feet up? No problem. Rappelling into an old uranium mine? Piece of cake. Taking on a giant robot who'd tried to turn him into Tracy trash? Okay, a kinda harder piece of cake. Yeah, more like one of Grandma's cookies.

But there was one scenario that made the fearless head of International Rescue shake in his shoes. And it was the scenario that he was facing, right now.

His middle brother, Mr Unflappable himself, was _not_ a happy camper. Standing in her hangar, Virgil was studying his beloved pride and joy in such dismay that, yes, Scott had to admit he felt it too. Right up there with a suicidal urge to burst out laughing.

"Aww, damn it, Scott, just - just _look_ at her!"

Yeah, like he had much choice. After all, what he jokingly called their 'big-green-pickup-machine' was... well, kinda hard to miss. Not that he'd dare say that aloud, though. No, he really preferred his teeth to stay where they were. So instead, albeit with heroic self control, he went for a gravely sympathetic nod.

"My baby... my poor baby, and... _damn it_ , Scott, just _look_ at her!"

Six foot plus of built-like-a-barn brother let out another wail of despair, and... oh, good grief.

 _'Aww, for heaven's sake, Virg, suck it up_!'

Hmmm, another thought that proved the rest of his brothers' view that Scott Carpenter Tracy had some weird kind of death wish. Keeping the latest one wisely under wraps, Scott then sucked in his cheeks so hard that he grew another set of dimples. Waited a few more moments to muster up all his legendary powers of reason, before he finally put them into practice.

"Hey, it's really not so bad, Virg... I - I mean, she just needs a bit of a clean."

Ooooops. Wrong thing to say. And was he imagining it, but was his life flashing before his eyes, as those of his brother threw a murderous glare towards him?

" _A bit of a clean_?"

Yup, this was bad. If Virgil repeated anything you'd just said to him as quietly as this - yes, an eruption that made Krakatoa look like a seismic hiccup was imminent. In the few seconds he had left, Scott threw a speculative glance towards the nearest stairs. If he started running now, he _might_ just get away with it, and - _yeuaeuurrk_.

Ooookay, maybe not. His collar now held in a vice like grip, he'd be lucky if he could keep breathing. And just to make this moment just about perfect - yes, here came the sarcasm.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sherlock, my 'bird currently has half the damn island wrapped around it. So somehow, I don't think giving her 'a bit of a clean' is gonna make much difference!"

Damn, if the hangar itself wasn't shaking now, from the sheer force of Virgil's voice. It was like having your very own pet tornado, following you inside, and - oooops. Yeah, given the state of his 'bird, that hadn't been the best of analogies.

All too aware that the arrangement of his teeth was still under serious threat, Scott held up a calming hand - kinda like that time when his first girlfriend's dog had gotten a _bit_ too friendly.

' _Okay, boy... yeah, you've got my attention... now down, boy... down_...'

Gradually, the panting grin of Judy Weston's Doberman changed into that of a frowning, tufty haired bear, then from that into a sheepish-faced brother. And yeah, how sweet of him to straighten his collar too.

Breathing a sigh of relief that he could just breathe again, Scott then completed their reconciliation by sliding a consoling arm around Virgil's shoulders. In all seriousness, his brother had been damn lucky to get home from this latest callout in one piece. And the more he thought about it, the less he felt like laughing.

While most of the people they rescued were usually thrilled to see them... well, the fiercely private Mahascans hadn't been quite so grateful. Given the choice between Marion Van Arkel's 'droid and a mob of screaming tribesmen - yeah, he'd take a wrestling robot every time.

As if that hadn't been enough to upset him, he'd also returned to one humdinger of a storm. Any bits of the Amazon that had been dislodged during the flight home had been replaced by equally fierce salvos of twigs, branches and leaves. By the time she'd crawled into the refuge of her hangar, Thunderbird Two had looked less like their invincible stalwart, and more like a jungle with wings, with a thick coat of mud to match.

So yes, Scott was in full big brother mode now as he saw the genuine frustration in Virgil's eyes. All joking aside, she _was_ his pride and joy, his baby, and... yeah, it was going to take more than a mop and bucket to get rid of this.

"Look, you've had one hell of a day," he said at last, giving Virgil's shoulders a rallying hug. "Go get yourself cleaned up, get something to eat, and I'll call Gordon and Alan in to help me out here... okay?"

It was a real relief when Virgil smiled so much more easily back at him - and just a bit of a surprise when he found out why.

"Thanks, Scott, but I've got a better idea."

Grinning now, in a way that made his brother very, _very_ nervous, Virgil then trotted across to one of the massive storage units that flanked Two's hangar. A few bangs, crashes and curses later, he emerged with what, to Scott, looked like a giant Anaconda wrapped around his waist.

Before he could hit the full heebie-jeebies, though, Virgil attached one end of the beast to a faucet on the wall, and rolled out the rest of it into a 'ready-for-action' line.

"I've been waiting to try this out for ages," he grinned, tugging out all the kinks he could reach, before turning the faucet up to full with a triumphant flourish. "Right, one Virgil Tracy jet wash coming up!"

" _Whoa_! Hold on, Virgil, you haven't pulled out all the-"

*WHOOOOOOOSHHHHHH*

*SSSSPLAAATT*

"-kinks."

"What?"

"Never mind."

Now flat on his back in his very own swimming pool, Scott pushed his hair out of his eyes, and glared with all the dignity he had left at his 'ooooops' faced, insultingly dry brother.

"Virgil?"

"Yes, Scott?"

"From now on, we stick to the buckets."


	6. Allie In Wonderland

Yes, folks, here we go again. More shenanigans with our favourite brothers, and... well, let's just say little Alan isn't quite himself. As always, it's big brother to the rescue, and... ye-ah. Sorry, Scott!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Six - Allie In Wonderland

For those times when he'd had to experience it, Scott Tracy had grudgingly agreed with his grandmother's belief that medicine only did you good when it tasted bad. From the way Alan's face had just screwed up in such utter disgust, her latest concoction was going to work just fine.

"Bleeuggghhh!"

Ah, the descriptive powers of an eight year old.

"...waaaah-chooooo!"

Not to mention the number of ways they could find to sneeze.

Handing him a tissue before he could use his arm instead, Scott listened to the honking results through a humouring wince. Jeez, if they ever needed a foghorn - yup, he'd just found it.

Against his amusement, though, Scott felt a far more serious, genuine sympathy for his youngest brother. Yes, Tracy Island _was_ the best place in the world to grow up on, full of nooks and crannies for five adventurous boys to explore, but... well, it had its hidden dangers too. Taking Gordon out hiking should never have ended like this. And who knew such a pretty little plant could hide such a nasty surprise inside it?

Within minutes of them returning home with it, Alan had started to sneeze. Gently and normally at first, but then with such non stop force that everyone, even Gordon, had stopped laughing at his plight - all quickly realizing that this wasn't a normal attack of the allergies.

By the time he'd broken out in itching hives, every one of his brothers had sprung into the Tracy version of 'battle stations.' With Gordon anxiously at his heels, Scott had carried him to his room, while Virgil and Grandma had analyzed the pollen that had triggered such a violent reaction. And what they'd come up with - well, that age old saying about bad medicine doing you good had never been so appropriate.

In appearance, it looked absolutely awful - and smelled even worse. Garish pink, with the kind of 'eeeeeeeww!' gross-ness that months of unwashed use would leave in your socks.

God, how he'd managed to get that first dose down him had been nothing short of miraculous. Then again, he'd had Virgil and Gordon on hand to help keep him still. And Alan had been so desperate for relief that he'd have taken _anything_ at that point. Even some of Grandma's gut-stripping tea.

Still, he'd taken this second dose like the true Tracy trouper he was. Curled back into Scott's arms with just the slightest of theatrical groans. And if one of their grandmother's other favourite beliefs was right, then the snuffly, blotchy creature that was using him as a pillow would soon be back to the freckly faced scamp they all knew and loved, and -

"Hee hee hee."

\- oooookay, maybe not.

Glancing downwards, Scott's face did its familiar mix between a frown and a smile. Quite why his little brother was trying to wriggle behind his back was a mystery that, all threat to his sanity aside, could only be solved through the patience of Saint Scott The Long Sufferer.

"Hey, if you're scouting for cookies, kiddo, you won't find 'em down there."

Yeah, like that would ever stop a Tracy's hunt for nibblies. But when the tousled mop of hair finally retreated, and revealed the face beneath it... well, it took Scott just seconds to realize this little foraging trip had nothing to do with food.

Even by their normal standards, Alan's eyes were unnaturally bright, almost too bright to look at, while that eager beaver grin was just... well, just downright freaky.

"I don' _wan'_ cookies, ya big goof... I'm jus' bu... bu'w'ring."

Oh, boy.

Fighting back laughter, Scott did what years and years of fourway practice had taught him. When faced with a little brother who was too absorbed in his latest book, or over-tired, or fretty, or just plain damn stubborn to listen to reason, you just humoured them instead. Kept all your answers nice and brief, so that you didn't collapse with the giggles.

" _Burrowing_?"

Oh, and you became a voice for them too - just to help them along with the words they weren't quite able to say.

"Yeah, wh't I said alweady! _Bu'w'ring_!"

Or, in this case, whole sentences.

Damn, if he didn't get canonised for this, there was something seriously wrong with the system! More immediately, though - well, he had a thoroughly spaced out brother to deal with. And yeah, forget the ceiling. Alan was so high right now that he could wave right back at those nice folks on the World Space Station. Knowing their little Astro Nut, he'd find a way to do it for real some day.

Right now, though... well, he was -

"Okay, so you're... um... bu'w'ring... and why's that, Allie? I mean, what are you... uh... bu'w'ring for?"

Squinting up at him, Alan frowned - never to know how close he'd just pushed his big brother to exploding with laughter.

"'cos I'm a _b_ ' _nny_! An' - An' that's what b'nnies do, Scotty, they _buwwow_!"

And that did it. To hell with heroic self control, Scott clutched his spare hand to his stomach, and just simply _howled_. He made such a racket, in fact, that Virgil's latest trip to the kitchen took an unexpected detour.

Met with the most adorable pout on the planet, and a brother who was flat on his back, shaking with laughter - well, yes, it wasn't too hard to believe what Alan had to tell him, with such wide eyed, hysterical gravity.

"Wirgie? I - I th'nk s'methies wong with Scotty."

"Yeah, kiddo, I've been saying that for years," Virgil grinned, laughing too as he lifted Alan into a snuggling hug against his chest. "Tell you what, why don't you nap down on me for a while, 'til Scotty's all better again... okay?"

Answered with a snuffling mumble, Virgil then threw the same, eye-rolling glance towards his other, still utterly helpless brother. Yeah, like he was going to get any sense out of these two right now! Instead, shaking his head at the sheer silliness of it all, he shifted Alan more snugly against him, and started walking him around his room. He knew his baby brother loved to be carried around like this, especially if he was sick, or couldn't sleep. Given his current state, Virgil knew he needed all the comfort he could get.

By the time he'd made a couple of gently rocking circuits, rubbing his back for good measure, Alan was out for the count. Scott, too, was now sitting up again, back in full big brother mode as he tossed back the bedclothes, and helped Virgil settle their little brother back into them. To their shared relief, Alan didn't bat an eyelid, but just curled himself between them, and fell instantly back to sleep. After such a worrying morning, it was a truly welcome sight.

"Yeah, he's looking much better now," Virgil said at last, stroking Alan's hair back from his face, and smiling at his peaceful expression. "Whatever Grandma put in that bottle, I'm guessing it's worked?"

Still studying the bottle whose contents had given them both such a moment to savour, Scott then nodded towards the snuggled bundle that lay sleeping soundly between them.

"Aside from making him high as a kite, and thinking he's a burrowing bunny... ye-ah, I'd say so."

Following Virgil's lead, he then stretched his legs more comfortably out in front of him - glancing across at his brother again as they both settled in for another stint of sick brother babysitting.

"You think he'll remember any of this when he wakes up?"

"For his sake... oh, I hope not."

Blue eyes then met brown again, in a glance that brought two evilly mischievous minds into perfect unity. Whether their little brother remembered this priceless moment or not - yes, the life of Alan ' bu'w'ring bunny' Tracy was going to be made an absolute _hell_.


	7. What Goes Up Must Come Down

Yep, here's another one! Great news for all my lovely reviewers, of course - not quite so much for Scott!

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Seven - What Goes Up Must Come Down

If there was one piece of household equipment that Scott Tracy knew where to find in a hurry, it was Old Faithful - their biggest, longest ladder. Through years of varied service, it had helped him rescue baseballs from roofs, trees and swimming pools, find test pilot teddy bears who'd gone MIA, make a really neat bridge to reach some irresistible rock pools, and - well, yes, helped serve the penance of an overly curious ten year old.

If the need ever arose for it, he could find the damn thing in his sleep. Today, though, the Fates that kept him from going completely insane had granted him hours of daylight for its latest excursion.

And, as always, it started with the Terrible Twins doing what they did best.

"Hey, _Scott_!"

"Scott! Hey, _bro_! Take a look at _us_!"

Walking back through the villa's rear garden, Scott glanced around him. Guided by muffled laughter, he then cringed. Closed his eyes, then opened them again, directing them to the only other place where the two banes of his life could possibly be.

And where was that? Yup, halfway up the tree he'd told them specifically _not_ to climb. And why was that? Well, as he'd found himself when he'd been their age, just after you got past that little fork of branches there, you kinda found out you couldn't -

"Uh, Scott? Scott, I'm - I'm stuck! I can't-"

\- get down.

More sure than ever now, that little brothers were devils in disguise, Scott took a deep breath to rein in his anoyance at being disobeyed. Then another to listen to the voice that dispersed it completely.

 _'Easy, son, don't lose that head of yours... remember how I dealt with it, when you got stuck up there_.'

God, how could he forget? He'd never seen his father so angry, and scared, and... damn, just all the emotions he was feeling himself right now.

And when he'd finally gotten down to the ground again, and his father had calmed down enough to ask him why he'd done it, why the big brother who was _supposed_ to set such a stellar example, had done something so mind bogglingly stupid -

 _'Because I'm bigger now, dad! And - And I just wanted to climb it_!"

\- yes, through a fondly wry smile, Scott knew exactly what Gordon and Alan were going to say to him when he asked them the self same question.

First, though, he had to get them down, and... yeah, yet again, Old Faithful was about to live up to its name. That ladder he'd used to serve his penance was about to come in real useful. Not to wash down all those windows this time, but to retrieve two over curious scamps who, yet again, had proven that the insanity of childhood just never went away.

And, again, the vital means to keep them calm came through the same words that his father had called up to him, that same lifetime of years ago.

"Okay, Alan, just take it easy... you and Gordon hold on real tight, and I'll be right up there to get you, okay? Just hold on, _real_ tight, and do _not_ try to move!"

Yeah, like there was any chance of that. Framed by branches, leaves, and mops of blond and coppery blond hair, two frightened little faces assured him they wouldn't move a muscle until he got back.

If there'd been a record for reaching their lower utility room, then Scott was about to break it. Skidding through the door, he grabbed Old Faithful from its rack and, using every inch of his height, and length of his arms, balanced it across his shoulders and started running back the way he'd come.

To Virgil, returning from his latest sketching trip, he must have looked like some kind of freakish, human-cum-mechanised bird. But the second he saw Scott's face, all thoughts of teasing him instantly disappeared. For someone who swore he never panicked, he was giving it a damn good go.

"Alan and Gordon are stuck up that old breadfruit tree behind the house. And I mean _really_ stuck."

Yeah, nothing like that kind of situation to make you forget your painting. Dumping everything he'd been carrying on the ground, Virgil then grabbed the nearest end of his brother's load, while both of them ran like wannabe firemen to where a harmless old tree was causing a whole lot of trouble.

Still, at least Gordon and Alan had followed his orders this time around, and stayed exactly where he'd left them. Their arms wrapped as tightly around each other as the nearest branch beside them, they were like two peas in a pod. And inwardly at least, Scott just had to smile. Yeah, they hadn't earned their most familiar nickname for nothing.

Saving that thought for a more appropriate time, Scott swung his end of the ladder around and, with the smoothness of practice, wedged it against the tree trunk in front of him. With Virgil standing on its base for extra weight, he then climbed carefully up to where his two youngest brothers were well and truly at one with nature. Damn, if they hugged those branches much harder, they'd snap them clean off, and - oooooh, wrong thing to think.

Instead, bracing himself against a broader section of trunk, Scott held out his hands, and offered two wide eyed bundles of trouble his most reassuring smile.

"Okay, so who's for getting out of here?"

Expecting two happily eager nods, he was met instead with two fervent headshakes, a fearful glance downwards, and - aww, _hell_!

"No, Allie, don't look down... yeah, I know Virgil's down there, but you look right at _me_ , all right? Just me, Allie, then keep your eyes closed 'til I get you down... _okay_?"

It took a bit more cajoling, another step up that ladder to get closer to him, but finally Alan let go of his branch, and wrapped himself just as tightly around Scott's back. Arms locked around his neck, and legs around his waist, he clung onto his brother like a humanised limpet - eyes tightly shut, focussing solely on the soft, quiet voice that carried him gently down to safety.

"That's it, Allie, hold onto me nice and tight there... attaboy, we're almost down, just hold on real tight for me, that's it... nice and tight until... yeah, there we go, Squirt, Virgil's got you... it's okay, Allie, he's got you now, he's gonna make sure you're all right while I go back for your brother... okay?"

With one half of the Terrible Twins now safely wrapped in Virgil's arms, Scott climbed up again to gently coax the other half down to join them. And it really didn't surprise him at all when Alan wriggled out of Virgil's arms, and joined his fellow explorer in a tearful, shaking huddle against his chest.

Meeting Virgil's eyes over the tops of their heads, Scott nodded in the same, near psychic understanding that had always existed between them.

 _'Hugs first, lectures later_.'

Rising carefully to his feet, and with Virgil as ever in faithful back-up, Scott carried two scared, shaken but thankfully safe little boys back into the villa. Kept his arms tightly around them, right until he could finally sit down again, snugging them onto the couch beside him. By the time Virgil re-joined them with glasses of milk and plates of cookies, they'd calmed down enough for the gentlest of big brother lectures.

"So, now you know why I told you both _not_ to climb that tree 'til you're much, _much_ bigger... right?"

Answered with two chagrined nods, he then waited patiently for one of the tousled heads beside him to rise. Finally, after a few not so subtle glares from his fellow partner in crime, it was Gordon who shot him the deadliest weapons he had to hand. Those big brown eyes, and a little half smile that reduced his eldest brother into a puddle of goo.

"Yeah, Scott, we do, but... see, me and Allie _are_ bigger now!"

"Yeah, I've grown by two whole inches!" Alan chimed in - puzzled as he always was at why Scott and Virgil found this so funny. As Gordon clearly thought too, it was another of those 'big-brother-weirdy' things.

"Well, Allie, that's... uh, really great," Scott said at last, still smiling as he snuggled both of them closer, and gently returned to the more serious matter at hand.

"But as you've just found out, you're still not big enough to climb that tree... and you've got to promise me, _both_ of you, that you're not going to try it again until you're as big as me and Virgil... and even then, one of us has got to be with you too. Okay?"

For a ten and eight year old, of course, this was... well, an impossibly tall order. Nearly as tall as their truly big brothers. But when Scott raised his eyebrows like that, and Virgil did the same, it really wasn't a good idea to argue. Instead, Gordon and Alan both nodded, more than happy now to just snuggle against the best big brother in the world.

For Scott, too, it was another moment to savour - right until Alan grinned up at him, in that uniquely special way that never failed to make him cringe.

"But when we _can_ climb it with you and Virgil, you can build us a tree house... right?"

Against two beseechingly hopeful faces, Scott and Virgil stared at each other - the same thought passing silently between them.

 _'Aww, hell_.'


	8. Danger! Brothers At Work

Yep - another chapter, from another suggestion from one of my lovely reviewers, thunderbird5.

Now, you'll have noticed one of the boys has been tellingly absent from this series. Most of the chapters have centred on Gordon and Alan - also known to my plot bunnies as the Terrible Twins. And, yes, Virgil too. But being the sensible lad that he is, we really haven't seen what chaos our favourite space monitor can cause.

Well, for John fans everywhere, the wait is over. Just for you, and especially for thunderbird5, here's Scott against not just one little brother, or two, or even three, but - yep, all four at once.

Yes, the Wee!Tracys are back. And yes. I really am that evil!

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Eight - Danger! Brothers At Work

The house was quiet. _Too_ quiet. The kind of _'dawn-of-the-apocalypse'_ quiet that made Scott Tracy very, _very_ nervous.

Not including himself, of course, because he was _always_ the sensible one, having four little brothers under one roof tended to be kinda - well, loud. Not to mention chaotic. Crazy. And damn exhausting. So yes, this peaceful tranquility _should_ have let him sigh with relief, and enjoy it while it lasted. But such a rarity also tended to get his big brother instincts up to full 'uh oh' alert. The last time the house was this quiet, he'd found Alan cocooned in bubble wrap.

Apparently, so Gordon had told him once he'd gotten over his moment of _'Oh, my Goooood_!' panic, his baby brother had been _really_ bugging him that morning. To the logic of a four year old, it had made all the sense in the world to post him back for a replacement.

Needless to say, the use of bubble wrap was now _very_ strictly monitored. Aside from their father, the only person who had the key to where it had been stored away was Scott himself. So unless one of them had learned how to pick a lock - and no, he wouldn't put it past them - there'd be no bubble wrapped brothers today.

*KA-BOOOMFF*

Brothers making things explode, however - ye-ah. You didn't need bubble wrap for that.

Flying downstairs into the kitchen, Scott breathed a deep sigh of relief for each of the _'I'm-still-standing'_ voices that met him halfway.

"Wow!"

Virgil. The master of 'wow-ness.'

"Cool!"

Gordon. Who just loved his latest favourite word.

"Boo!"

Alan. Whose toddler-ish vocabulary still needed a bit of work.

"Boom, Allie. The word is boom."

John. Always ready to lend an educational hand.

A pause, then, before his next youngest brother added the patently obvious.

"And, uh... that wasn't meant to happen."

Oh, really? No kidding!

Yes, even at the tender age of twelve, Scott Carpenter Tracy had already developed a nice line in brotherly sarcasm. Not to mention the patience of a whole heaven of saints. And at this rate, he'd also be the youngest Tracy in history to go completely grey.

"So then, Mr Genius... you wanna tell us what _should_ have happened?" he asked at last, fighting not to smile as three startled brothers almost shot off their stools.

Oh, the surprise! The innocence! Not to mention their outright sneakiness, as their favourite secret weapon was gently nudged towards him.

"S'otty!"

Yeah, nothing like a cherubic baby brother waddling towards you to turn you into a big puddle of goo.

Rolling his eyes against now helpless laughter, Scott caught him easily, and swept Alan up into a tickling hug. Once satisfied that there wasn't any damage, he then turned his attention back towards a line of still nervously watching faces. John's. Virgil's. Gordon's. All clearly hoping their fiendish ploy had worked.

Ye-ah. Nice try.

" _Well_?"

And - busted! With scary synchronicity, three hopeful grins disappeared, to be replaced by a comically frantic trade of _'now what_?' glances. Several nudges and hushed whispers later, his next youngest brother was kindly 'volunteered' to reply.

"Well, it's for my science class, Scott... you know, for that rocket I made? And... well, I was just testing its fuel."

Studying the mess of soda marks on the kitchen table, Scott just nodded. For several reasons, not least the crazy urge to start laughing, it took him some moments on top of that to reply.

"So I see. Yeah, that's... uh, some pretty impressive fuel you've got there."

Still in his place of safe favour against Scott's shoulder, Alan now chimed in with his idea of helping his big brothers out of their latest heap of trouble.

"Went bang."

Yup, full marks for effort, but in terms of effectiveness, that needed work too. And Scott had to draw on all the self control he had as a quiet mutter of 'traitor' rippled along the line of still uneasily waiting accused. If this was what being a judge felt like - hell, he'd stick to dad's suggestion, and go into the Air Force instead.

More immediately, though, and in their father's absence, he now had to pass sentence, and - oooooh, the possibilities! Yeah, he'd start with telling these three maniacs to tidy their rooms - starting with his, of course - and see how things went from there.

"Yes, Allie, I can see it... uh, went bang," he said at last, giving the least dangerous little brother he had a playful cuddle, before directing his best, big brother glare towards the others.

Hmm, big mistake. Met with three pairs of the biggest, saddest, and _'aww-please-don't-be-mad-at-us'_ eyes he'd ever seen, those plans for brotherly servitude started to crumble. By the time Alan had finished giggle-kissing his neck... yes, Scott Carpenter Tracy was doomed. Completely and utterly doomed.

Rolling his own eyes in much practised defeat, he then fell back on another, age old adage. If you couldn't beat 'em, you joined 'em.

"Right, let's get this little accident cleaned up, then we're going to find a safer project for Johnny's science class... okay?"

Answered with three beaming grins, and a yell that almost blew out his ear, Scott then realized the first flaw to this brilliant plan. How to come up with an alternative experiment that didn't involve things that went 'bang.' Or, in Alan's case, 'boo.'

Luckily, he then remembered one of his own old projects. One that, hopefully, was also Tracy-proof. And, more luckily still, everything he needed was already to hand. So, a bit of rummaging, balloon-blowing and tape-cutting later, four excited little brothers huddled around him, all eager to test it out.

And out of all of them, Alan was the most enthralled of all. He was still too young, of course, to fully understand what he was seeing - nothing more than a long red balloon, with some straws stuck onto it, flying around the kitchen. But he knew that he liked watching it, just as much as his happily cheering brothers. He liked it an awful lot.


	9. Big Brother's Survival Guide

You know, all the time I keep getting these lovely reviews, I'll keep writing these stories! They really are such fun!

Yes, the torture for poor Scott continues - kindly inspired this time by phoenix sparrow. So then, how much trouble do you think these boys can get into at a fun fair? Aww, come on! They're Tracys! And what letter does torture, Tracy and trouble start with? Yup, a nice, big, capital T.

I've used a bit of my own headcanon here, imaging that Scott would go to cadet school before he joined the Air Force. So taking his age as around eighteen, I've put John's at fifteen, Virgil's as twelve, Gordon's as nine and Alan's as seven.

So, then, let the fun and games begin!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Nine - Big Brother's Survival Guide

This, Scott thought in rueful hindsight, had not been one of his better ideas. Hell, it barely qualified as an idea at all. No, this now surely qualified as a mistake with a capital M.

'All The Fun Of The Fair.' Was that what everyone called it? Yeah, right. For him, it was about as much fun right now as going to the dentist. Taking his brothers, the Terrible Twins especially, to San Diego Wonderland didn't just require eyes in the back of his head, but... well, every other part of him too.

It was his own fault, he supposed, for telling John that, yes, he had his first weekend free from air cadet school. And yes, he really did miss them all too, _really_ badly. Thought it would be a great idea for dad to fly them all over to see him. But then their father had been called away to close his latest business deal, and... well, suddenly a fun day at the fair had turned into the Tracy version of multi-doggie walkies. But with just one pair of hands. And no leashes.

That thought made him smile now, as he watched his godsend of a younger brother take Virgil off to the dodgem cars. So that just left him with Gordon and Alan, and... ye-ah. That explained the 'good luck' smirk he'd seen on John's face, and Virgil's, before they'd fled for safety.

"Well played, you two. Well played."

Realizing from two puzzled frowns that he'd spoken that thought aloud, Scott then sighed, resigned now to at least several hours of brotherly warfare, and... yep, round one had already dinged into action.

"So, Scott, where can we go first?"

"Yeah, Scott, the water slide's right over there!"

"Yeah, trust you to see that, ya big squid, and... aww, look at that rollercoaster! It is _so_ cool!"

"Nah, you're no way big enough to go on that, Shrimp... not unless you sit on Scott's lap."

"Hey, I am too, and... aww, Scott, I'm not too small, am I? I - I _can_ go on it with you, right?"

Caught well and truly in the middle, Scott knew he had to assert his authority now, or he'd be in serious trouble. And since _he_ had the ultimate seniority, _he'd_ get the final vote.

"Hey, why don't we go see these farmyard animals? Those lambs look really cute."

Uh oh. Wrong thing to say. Never had so much disgust fitted itself onto his youngest brother's face, and - yep, in terms of cool brother credibility, he might just as well go find his first pipe and pair of fuzzy slippers.

"Aww, c'mon, Scott! That stuff's for _babies_!"

"Hey, that's okay, Squirt, you'll fit in just fine."

"Hey, I am _not_ a baby, okay?"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

Yup, there went round two, and -

* _phweeeeep_ *

\- yeah, that old Scouts whistle he'd brought with him still came in _real_ handy.

Earned him a few funny looks too, of course, but at least order had been restored. Seizing his chance before round three could erupt around him, Scott then pointed towards what he hoped would be a surefire way to keep both of them happy. Answered with two beaming grins, he breathed a sigh of utter relief. However old you were, nothing would ever beat the appeal of a good old fashioned coconut shy.

Ten minutes later, that thought had gone through a considerable re-think. Oh, he was back to being the coolest big brother on the planet now, which was good. But the brilliance of his pitching arm had also... well, had its drawbacks. And, again, it was really his own fault for asking two ecstatic little brothers which toys they wanted as their prizes. A giant squid, of course, for Gordon, and a three eyed alien zombie that, needless to say, Alan was just too small to carry himself.

So then, for the next time he had one of these bright ideas for a fun day out with the kids... leashes, earplugs - and a damn saddlebag. Until then, he'd just have to do the best he could - and find a way to see through and talk around a faceful of plushie.

"Right, then... where next?"

Silence. And a moment of honest, total panic as Scott dumped his loads at his feet and stared frantically around him.

"Gordon? Allie?"

To his indescribable relief, he could already see them walking back towards him. As casual as you please, too, and - oh, good grief. At the rate Alan was scoffing down that candy floss, the few teeth he had were going to fall out.

Saving that discussion for a more appropriate time, Scott took a deep breath - dispelling the rest of his alarm before letting 'The Look' take over.

"How many times do I need to tell you two, _not_ to wander off where I can't see you?"

Eyes of breathtaking innocence blinked up at him - this moment of touching apology somewhat dented by Alan's reply.

"Sorry, Scott, but... well, I'm hungry!"

Ah yes. Another little thing to file away in his Big Brother's Survival Handbook. Never forget the appetite of a seven year old kid who was hollow from the toes up. Yup, it ranked right up there with... ooooh, now there was a sight for sore eyes!

Pointing to the stall ahead of him, he then threw a meaningful glare towards two suddenly horrified little brothers.

"Right, if it happens again, you get to wear one of those 'til we go home... clear?"

Answered with two utterly obedient nods, Scott had to admit he was still tempted to go for it anyway. After all, you just never knew when putting your little kid brothers into T shirts that read "HELP! I'm Little And I'm Lost!" might come in useful. Instead, he nodded towards the perfect alternative penance that still lay at his feet. Yeah, if they wanted them, they could carry them.

"Hey, Scott, can't we just use those storage lockers instead, and pick them up when we go home?"

Closing his eyes, Scott rubbed away the start of a thumping headache. Yeah, nothing like the simple logic of a nine year old to knock your own out of the park. And was it really so wrong of him to peer inside, just for a moment, and wonder if two little brothers could fit in there too?

By the time Mr Squiddy and As-Yet-Unnamed-Zombie had been squeezed inside, that question was pretty much answered. Still, at least his hands were free now to keep these two tiny terrors in line, and... aww, no, they _had_ to be kidding!

Yeah, like he'd ever be that lucky. And yeah, as the perfectly named Space Shot pulled several g as it whizzed back up again, Scott was yelling louder than the two of them put together.

" _GNNNYYYYAARRGGGHHHHHH_!"

By the time they came tottering through the turnstile, Scott was sure his stomach and legs were in two completely separate states. Okay, he dazedly promised himself, that surely qualified him through cadet training, and straight into fighter school. He just thanked God he hadn't heaved, because... well, that would have been just too damn embarrassing.

"Ooooh, Scott, look! Make your own pizza!"

Yes, that settled it. These two angels in devils' clothing were undoubtedly trying to kill him.

"Maybe later, Allie, okay? Right now, I just need to take a breather."

Peering into his face, Gordon nodded. His attempt to offer sympathy, though, still needed a bit of work.

"Yeah, Scott, you _do_ look kinda weird... nearly as green as Allie's alien."

Oh, this was great. Just great. A six foot tall Air Force cadet, likened to a damn plushie. Wherever his dignity was right now, he had to get it back. Like, _now_.

Drawing on every inch of that height, Scott took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto a face that, from Gordon's reaction, still wasn't quite the colour it should have been.

"No, Gords, I'm fine, and... hey, look, that stall has fresh apple pie... you want to get some of that instead?"

Wincing slightly at two ecstatic yells - seriously, couldn't these two come with volume controls? - Scott allowed himself to be dragged to where slices of hot apple pie were being served by some blessedly shaded tables. Sinking onto the nearest bench he could find, he then watched two humanised tornadoes sweep their way to the back of the queue. Jeez, was he really so old already, that they could tire him out so quickly?

He was still trying to answer that question when he saw two other, familiar figures waving back at him. Aha, so the kings of the dodgems had returned, and - yeah, wasn't that just typical? Just in time for pie. Well, if Virgil thought he was getting any of his hard earned favourite treat, he had another thought coming.

Luckily, his bear of a brother had clearly eaten already, although that didn't stop him from eyeing the platefuls of pie that Gordon and Alan had brought back with them. A gently twirling fork in front of his face, though, soon put paid to that little notion. Brotherly love in the Tracy household did _not_ extend to apple pie - especially when it was as badly needed as this.

Torturing your big brother instead, though? Almost making him choke to death on his beloved pie? Oh yeah, this lot had that little trick down pat.

"So then, since we've had such a great time today," Virgil grinned, oblivious to the look of utter horror that Scott then threw towards him. "What time should we get here tomorrow?"


	10. Make 'em Laugh

Aah, another suggestion. Another chapter. Another chance to put Scott through the wringer of brotherly suffering.

Seriously, can you tell how much I love writing these? And, again, my eternal thanks to Sailor Centauri, for feeding my evil bunnies.

Okay, a mini sequel here, to Big Brother's Survival Guide. It takes place shortly afterwards, so you'll find a few references to that story scattered through this one.

From the title, you'll know what's coming. Yep, the boys are off to the land of clowns and acrobats, and... oh, Scotty, Scotty, Scotty. When will you _ever_ learn?

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Ten - Make 'em Laugh

Yup, no doubt about it. Scott Carpenter Tracy was self-certifiably insane. There really wasn't any other way to explain his current situation. How he'd come to be here, trying to herd four demons cunningly disguised as sweet, innocent little brothers towards - _that_.

A tent so vast that you could probably fit Tracy Island beneath it, and still have room to spare. The Big Top that housed the wonders of Santini's Scintillating Circus.

Or, in his eyes, Big Brother's Hell On Earth.

It was his own damn fault, too. Seriously, he could have said _anything_ other than the words that had tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them.

" _Hey, Scott, can we go to the circus? That'd be soooo cool_."

" _For the birthday boy himself? Sure_!"

But noooooooo. In a moment of complete and utter madness, he'd agreed to take Alan to his very first circus. And not just _any_ circus, of course, but the biggest and best show that a doting - not to mention insane - big brother could find.

And yeah, this certainly qualified for big. Okay, so he was exaggerating on the tent bit. And, he hoped, the hell on Earth bit too, but... damn, this place was _huge_. He was going to need every shred of awareness to keep these four maniacs in sight, and... hmm. Yes, he'd remembered to bring his trusty old Scout whistle, but in hindsight, he should also have thought to bring a few links of climbing rope.

Instead, with John and Virgil lagging strategically behind, he again had the Terrible Twins tugging on his hands, and - yeah. Nice try, boys. They might have gotten away with that little trick once, but Scott wasn't about to fall for it again.

"John, could you and Virg take Gordon for me? Get us some eats and stuff, while I get our tickets?"

Ha! Busted! And with no dodgem cars around, no chance for them to make a quick getaway either.

So, then, one half of the Terrible Twins down, the other half still trying to tug his arm out of its socket. Yet Scott still couldn't help but smile as he glanced down at his youngest brother. Eight years old already, and... jeez, Allie was growing up so fast. And talk of the little devil himself... aww, surely he didn't need the little boys' room _again_?!

Stooping in response to that familiar tug on his hand, Scott then felt all his misgivings melt away into a Disney moment smile as Alan wrapped his arms around his neck, and tried in the sweetest possible way to strangle him.

"Thanks for bringing me here, Scott! You're the best big brother _ever_!"

Damn if those big blue eyes and killer smile didn't get him every time. And Scott really couldn't stop himself from grinning back, giving the birthday boy's hair the mother of ruffles, before topping it with a brotherly proud kiss.

"Hey, anything for you, Squirt... but you've got to promise me you'll stay _real_ close to me, so you don't get lost... okay?"

Again the bright eyed nod that usually led to frantic searching and yelling a few minutes later. This time, though, with Alan's hand still snugly held in his, and Gordon returning under the watchful eyes of his other two brothers, Scott could actually hope for a reasonably stress free day.

He really, _really_ , ought to have known better. Unseen and unheard, the Fates that made his life such a constant challenge teamed up into one, shared mission.

Today, we're going to make Scott Carpenter Tracy's life a complete and utter hell.

Oh, and have _tons_ of fun doing it.

From that moment on, an invisible target latched itself onto Scott's back. His very own thundercloud lurked above his head, ready to give him the mother of soakings. And ten minutes later, the Fate Of Mischief took aim, and whacked him with her very first bullseye.

"Wow, look at those elephants!"

"Yeah, it says here their trunks can hold over two gallons of water!"

"Really? How?"

"Well, it says here they just suck it all up, then pour it down their mouths to drink."

"Yeah, they use it to wash themselves too... like our showers at home."

*WHOOOOOOOOOSH*

"Gyaaarghhhhhhh!"

A pause then, before rueful confirmation of the wonders of nature.

"Yeah, I can... uh, vouch for that."

Answered, of course, with hysterics of laughter instead of any kind of sympathy, Scott rolled his eyes under a sodden fringe, then threw a futile glare towards the massive bull who, he was sure, was splitting its sides too. As were crowds of other kids around him. _And_ their parents. _And_ one of the circus keepers who, a tad too late, chuckled out a rather pointless warning.

"Yeah, he's _always_ doing that."

' _Well_ , _thank you_ , _Mr Helpful_.'

"Hey, don't worry, Scott... in this heat, you'll soon dry out."

' _Thank you too_ , _Brother Smartass_. _And I might take you seriously_ , _Virg_ , _if you_ _weren_ 't _still_ _busting your ribs_.'

Taking the offered towel with all the dignity he still had, Scott wiped himself down as best he could - sourly noting that the inside of an elephant's trunk smelled just as bad as the outside. Yeah, like he'd be renewing his Save Our Wildlife subs any time soon, if this was the kind of thanks he got.

Wringing out his jeans and shirt, he handed the towel back to the keeper who, damn him, was still enjoying himself just a bit too much. Still, it was kinda nice to see that a raised eyebrow had the same effect on him as it did on his two youngest brothers. Faced with a six foot tall, glowering Tracy, the keeper did the wisest thing he possibly could - and fled.

With pride and dignity more or less restored, Scott then squared his shoulders and led four still giggling brothers to the next 'must see' on Alan's list.

'Be A Clown!'

Yup, he thought through a rueful sigh, got that one pegged already.

Unfortunately, his youngest brother didn't agree. Neither did the Fate Of Embarrassment, who saw her chance to live up to her name, and gleefully took it.

"Aww, c'mon, Scott! It'll be fun!"

"Yeah, Scott, with those giant feet, you'll make a _great_ clown!"

" _And_ it'll hide all that trunk gunk in your hair."

Against three imploring faces, Scott turned in vain hope of sense and sympathy towards his next youngest brother - only to yelp in surprise as John, then Virgil, then Gordon and Alan, all kindly 'helped' him onto the chair in front of them.

This was also the moment he came to regret glaring so much at that luckless keeper. He'd clearly run it out of juice, leaving him powerless against the fourway evil that now had him pinned down, and at the mercy of a damn paintbrush. So, resigned to yet more humiliation, and not wanting to spoil Alan's day, Scott sat quietly - assuming from the splutters of laughter beside him that, yes, he _did_ make one hell of a good clown.

 _'Yeah, story of my life_.'

Presented with a mirror, he almost didn't dare to look, and - holy cow! Blessedly unseen by his tutors and classmates, Air Cadet Tracy had magically turned into Coco the clown's latest 'little helper.' And to say he'd done a number on him would be the understatement of all time.

Now completely white - hell, the shock alone would have had the same effect - the face that could melt every teenage girl's heart in existence was also completely unrecognizable. Topped with a garish, fluffy red wig that made John's flaming mop look positively tame, his eyes had all but vanished inside swirls of bright green paint, while polka dots of lilac and yellow gave him the most freakish damn freckles he'd ever seen.

And that mouth! That mouth was gonna give him nightmares, for sure, and -

*honk*

\- yeah, where would a self-respecting clown be, without his big, red, irresistibly honky nose?

And, of course, what the birthday boy had to do, everyone else just _had_ to do the same.

*honk*

*honk*

*honkity honk*

Now well and truly honked out, Scott then rose to his feet - ruefully thinking that having to pay to look like this just added insult to injury.

Still, at least Alan was happy, all hero-worshipping smiles as he followed his clownified brother towards their next stop. And, for Scott, there was the greater consolation of knowing that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Wrong.

Oh, being turned into a six foot freak of clowndom wasn't the problem. To his relief, there were plenty of other, no doubt equally martyred 'volunteers' in the crowds around him. No, the problem that he could never have foreseen when he'd booked this little escapade was the location of their seats.

Front row, the best his long suffering wallet could buy. And slap bang in the sights of the tumbling procession of clowns, who now had the audience in the middle and rear seats thanking all the gods they could name that they were reasonably safe. Because every one of them had come armed with a startling range of weapons. Water hoses. Custard pies. Multi coloured gunge that had probably been made in some elephant's damn trunk. Squirty buttons. Whizzy string. Exploding buckets of confetti.

And wasn't it just Scott Tracy's luck that their leader was the same grinning maniac who'd painted his face earlier? Who'd subtly coughed for a higher tip. Who now paid his hapless victim back, with complete and utter glee.

Under layers of custard, foam, whizzy string and confetti, plus his mask of clown-paint, it was impossible to see Scott's true reaction. But sitting beside him, Virgil's initial amusement at his brother's plight was turning more and more into a deepening frown.

Playing to your audience was one thing, but this - no, this was rapidly turning into outright humiliation, and he didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. Neither did three other brothers, who'd also realized that a once innocent, teasing joke had just gone too far.

Alan, especially, was now clearly upset at seeing his brother so utterly humiliated. His birthday treat, that they'd all been enjoying so much, was now in real danger of being ruined. So when the interval came, and Scott gratefully fled for the nearest restroom, Virgil huddled them around him, and talked them into an instantly agreed plan.

By the time Scott returned, that plan was all set to go - and so were they. Clown or no clown, _no-one_ made a fool of their big brother.

To his surprise, John and Gordon intercepted him in the aisle and hustled him gently outside - answering his puzzled questions on where Virgil and Alan were with cryptic smiles, and reassuring hugs. And yes, of course he knew that Alan would be safe with his older brother, so there was no need to worry, but - oh, good grief.

Caught between surprise and amusement, Scott then gave in to the latter, more than happy to join in with the laughter around him. Recognizing this gesture for what it was, he snugged both Virgil and Alan in for a grateful hug, while John and Gordon slipped into the tent beside them.

Ten minutes later, five still happily laughing clowns linked their arms around shoulders and waists, and headed towards one of the food stalls nearby.

Huddled at their centre, Scott felt a warming contentment sweep away all thoughts of scary, sadistic clowns and custard pies - safe in the knowledge that the four best brothers in the world now looked as thoroughly freaky as he did. And after that brief upset, Alan was smiling too, giggling through a fourway tickle-hug.

So yes, maybe this day hadn't been such a disaster after all. But then, of course, Virgil just _had_ to ask.

"Hey, guys? This paint _does_ come off... _right_?"


	11. The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Yes, I know it's summer (at least here in the UK). So, yes, I'm a few months early. But when this wonderful suggestion pinged in from Sailor Centauri... well, do you honestly think I could wait until December to write it?

Nooooo, of course not! So, here's a little glimpse of the Tracy household on Christmas morning, and... well, yes, you just know it won't be a quiet one!

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Eleven - The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Every November, just after Thanksgiving, Scott Tracy sent a make believe letter to a certain address at the North Pole:

"Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year, I'd really like my four little brothers to go to bed when I tell them on Christmas Eve, go to sleep, and stay that way 'til Christmas morning.

Ever hopefully yours,

Scott Tracy.

PS I'd be real thankful if you can make them all sleep 'til Boxing Day instead

PPS I'll even let you have my apple pie if you can stop my littlest brother Allie from trying to climb up the chimney to see your reindeer."

But, just like last year, and every one that has passed before it, the celestial postal system had failed to deliver. Instead, long before the sun peeked out to see if it was safe to rise on Tracy Island, two humanised hurricanes swept into his room, and made landfall on his bed.

*thoomp*

*thoomp*

"SCOTTTYYYYY! It's CHRIIIIIS-MAAAAAAS!"

Flattened and deafened in one brotherly swoop, Scott winced and, in futile hope, tried to pull his bedclothes back over his head. But against the determined tugging of a hyper excited five year old, and his equally excited brother, he could have locked himself in his closet, and these two tiny terrors would still find a way in to torture him.

And seriously, what _was_ it with all this bouncing? What was he, a damn trampoline?

"Thanks, Allie... I kinda knew that already," he sighed, throwing the sternest glare he could manage towards the face that had just popped up against his leg.

Still, he really couldn't fault their strategy - sending Alan in to distract him, all bright blue eyes and irresistible cuteness, while Gordon tried to bounce him into submission. It was working like a charm, too, since that glare on his face now crumbled into a helpless grin. And since he was well and truly awake now, with no possible chance of going back to sleep - well, time for a bit of Christmas fun himself.

Sitting up, he took full advantage of its suddenness catching them by surprise - grabbing Gordon in one arm, while gently scooping Alan up with the other. In a glorious tangle of wriggling limbs, he then launched a stealth attack of his own. Oh yes, the pure joy of having two such ticklish little brothers!

Of course, it would have been even better if:

a) he wasn't so ticklish himself

b) these two little devils didn't know where his own vulnerable spots were, and -

" _Aaaaiiiieeeee_!"

\- yup, that gap between his fourth and fifth rib was an absolute _killer_.

Flat on his back, and howling for mercy, some reinforcements would come in real handy right now. But would he ever be that lucky?

"Hey, _John_? Tickle pile on Scott!"

"Be right there, Virg. Just hold him down while I get my camera."

*thoomp*

"Gyaaaarr-aaaiieeeeee! Aww, c'mon, guys - _gerrofff_!"

*click* *click* *click*

Nope.

By the time he'd recovered enough from this dastardly attack to sit up and fight back, three of his tormentors had wisely fled for safety - leaving their most effective secret weapon behind. Crawling into his lap, and clutching his space shuttle plushie, Alan blinked up at him, with eyes set to 'maximum melt' and the grin that made his big, brave, teenage brother go all wibbly inside.

"Scotty? We eat now?"

Not knowing whether to laugh, cry, or fly out to join their dad on that business trip, Scott laid his head back against his pillows, and closed his eyes against a helpless groan of giggles. Yeah, full marks for just sheer bravado. Wear your victim out, get all the blackmailable photos you need, then expect _him_ to make your breakfast afterwards.

"Yeah, waffles for me, Scott."

"Nah, Virg, it's _Christmas_! You _gotta_ have the full works for Christmas!"

"With fruit and cereal too, of course, just to _try_ and make it healthy."

Correction. Breakfast(s). At five thirty on Christmas morning.

Wonderful.

More convinced than ever now, that he was surely due a sainthood, Scott tossed back his covers and, with some typically eager help, climbed out of bed.

"Yes, Allie. We eat now."

Scooping Alan onto his shoulders, he then led three equally happy brothers along the hall, through the den, and down to the kitchen. The Pied Piper of Hamlin, he thought dryly, has nothing on me!

Of course, he wasn't a bad chef either. After learning the basics from their mother, he'd self-taught himself the rest - partly out of necessity, but mostly from the sheer pleasure of watching his brothers happily devour anything and everything he put in front of them.

He still had his limits, though - especially when four fed-to-the-gills brothers tried to sneak out of Scott's Kitchen without paying their dues. And even if they'd tried to tickle it out of him, it was nice to see that subtle cough still made them freeze on the spot.

"Oh no, you don't. Dishes and clean-ups first, _then_ we get to the presents."

Yes, he thought, watching them all troop miserably back to the sink, Grandma wasn't the only one who could sort out their household chores. Even Alan, bless his little space-rocket socks, had taken his place beside Gordon, helping his brother to dry up.

But then, of course, it just had to happen. Never happier than when he was next to water, Gordon playfully flicked some stray droplets onto Alan's face. His little brother, naturally, had to flick some right back. Within seconds, an all out water-fight erupted around the sink - and a fully laden sponge found its unintended but inevitable target.

*sploop*

Picking it up, Scott threw the best big brother glare that he could manage towards four 'oh-if-we-laugh-we're-dead' faces, while pushing a dripping fringe back from his own. Just six hours into Christmas Day, with at least another ten still to go before this lot went to bed, and - no, he just wasn't going to survive it.

But then he remembered how special this day used to be. How vital it was, for them all to enjoy it with as much fun and laughter as they possibly could, and the glare on his face turned back into a helpless grin.

 _'Yeah, come on, you big Grinch... get in there, and show 'em how it's done_.'

"No, Gordon... if you really want to pitch the best curveball, you've gotta do it like _this_!"

*ka-sploop*

From that moment on, of course, it was every Tracy for himself.

*splat*

*boink*

*schlop*

*squish*

*thoomp*

Five minutes later, five soggy but laughing brothers charged up the stairs, for the best ever part of Christmas Day. Huddled under the massive tree that took pride of place in the middle of the den, the best way that Scott had ever found to describe it was 'organized chaos.' And with five lots of presents to sort out, it took some time to figure out which perfectly wrapped parcel had to go where.

For all that, though, he loved every second of it. And with John and Virgil at that age now, when 'Santy Claus' became a fond but redundant part of their childhoods, the focus for this most magical time shifted to their two younger brothers.

Dryly adding 'delivery boy' to his ever growing list of skills, Scott handed out the last two presents, then sat back and waited for the moment that he, and John, and Virgil, had waited for three hundred and sixty five days to see again. With Alan now old enough to fully enjoy it, this year's Christmas promised to be something really, _really_ special.

If their father had been there to share it, of course, it would have been even better, but... well, Scott was so used to these business trips now that he'd just come to accept them. Besides, he didn't want to let that little ripple of disappointment spoil this day for the rest of his brothers. So, instead, he sat back with Alan snuggled in his lap, and Gordon curled up against his side - ruefully watching the presents that he'd spent hours wrapping up for them explode into showers of madly torn paper.

' _Five... four... three... two... one_...'

Then, right on cue, came the same explosion of delighted yells, and squeals, and shrieks, and proof that all those hours of searching for their 'must have' presents had been more than worth it. And last, but never least, the double-whammy of hugs that threatened to strangle him, and so many kisses on his cheeks that they ached from the very sweetest of reasons.

Yes, this was the best part of having four brothers to share this most special of days. Every hug, and cuddle, and yell of delight was repeated four times over, until the whole house seemed to shake with the sheer joy of their laughter.

Stretched out on the couch, and surrounded by a pile of snuggling brothers, Scott eyed the wreckage of paper and boxes in front of him with a wry but happy smile. On any other day, he'd have been on his knees by now, clearing it all up as the 'neatfreak' that he'd always been. But not today. No, he'd just leave that glorious mess alone, because - well, that was all part of the magic, wasn't it? And days like these, moments like these, were those you had to cherish.


	12. House Of Horrors

Hmm, I seem to be working a bit in reverse here! The last chapter featured the boys at Christmas, and this one features them at Halloween!

I also know I touched on this theme in chapter four - Is There A Doctor In The House? And, wow, was that really seven chapters ago? How time flies when you're having fun. Or, in my case, torturing a certain Tracy!

Anyway, this latest tale from Tracy Island will expand on the shenanigans that we saw in that chapter - most notably from Gordon - until poor Scott is left with a serious case of the wibblies.

Again, I must thank Sailor Centauri, who keeps supplying my bunnies with these wonderful ideas. I really hope I'm doing them justice for you, Sailor! :o)

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Twelve - House Of Horrors

06.38. And before he'd had his first cup of coffee, or breakfast, or - hell, just his damn shower! - Scott Tracy knew it was going to be one of _those_ days.

Or, if he wanted to be _really_ pedantic, just _one_ day. 31st October. That one date on the calendar when Tracy Island turned into Trick Or Trick.

Nope, no treats here, kids. Just every damn prank that its master of prankery could squeeze into its hours.

Yes, Gordon Cooper Tracy just _loved_ Halloween. For reasons that were already wibblingly clear, his eldest brother _hated_ it.

He'd spent several minutes now, lying here in his bed - transfixed by the stuff of nightmares that had greeted him as soon as he'd woken up. Yes - there really _was_ a scarily lifelike tarantula crawling across the floor of his room. If not for the soft whirr of its mechanics, he'd have sworn the damn thing was real. Instead, rolling his eyes at the giveaway sniggers of laughter from behind his door, he climbed out of bed and, resisting the urge to stamp on Mr Fuzzylegs, padded into his bathroom.

Halfway through the door, he stopped - scanning every inch of its frame for more of Gordon's ghoulish booby-traps. Yes, this was the day when their resident prankster did his finest work. With the house now looking like a set from an old horror movie, Scott knew the fun and games had only just started.

Hell, just the simple pleasure of his morning shower had now turned into the Tracy version of Psycho. He could almost visualize Virgil lurking behind that screen, screeching out the music that, even now, made his teeth grate. Jeez, it was worse than scratching your fingers down one of John's old chalkboards.

Still, so far so good. He couldn't see or feel any tripwires, and the space of floor between him and the bath-suite looked surprisingly but reassuringly clear.

Knowing better than to take any of that for granted, he then used every inch of his height to let him peer into the bath itself - rolling his eyes at the line of pumpkins that grinned so freakishly back at him.

Yup, nothing like some good old fashioned, zombie-fied pumpkins to get your Halloween off to a flying start. And he had to credit the Terrible Twins, too, for all the effort they'd put into them. Still, at least they were easier to handle than last year's little 'bathtub buddy.' Even now, Scott had no idea on how that pygmy alligator had found its way onto the island, let alone his bathroom. Given how quickly Gordon had adopted it, though - ye-ah. He had a pretty fair idea.

Nibbles, though. What kind of self-respecting, world-saving hero names his pet alligator _Nibbles_?!

The same kind, no doubt, who'd made it his life's mission to scare the living jeebies out of the world's most long suffering big brother. These pumpkins, however impressive, were just the warm up act for whatever fiendish delights were still to come.

Rolling his eyes at the thought, Scott picked them up and placed them on his bathroom cabinet - again, searching it thoroughly for hidden surprises. Last year, he'd opened it without thinking, before he'd fully woken up - and almost screamed the house down when a perfectly coiled snake delivered his favourite soap between two blood-drippy fangs.

Armed with a carefully rolled towel, he then adopted the best defensive stance that Kayo had taught him, and opened the nearest door - so silently grateful that none of his brothers, and one in particular, had seen so much effort to defend himself wasted on harmless stocks of soap, toothpaste and hair gel.

Just to be sure, though, Scott still opened every bottle and squeezy tube, giving their contents a cautious sniff. Okay, so he'd had a stinking cold at the time, and hadn't been able to tell the difference - but trying to wash your hair with toothpaste really wasn't a good move.

Again, though, so far so good. Everything as it should be - enough to lull him into a relieved sense of security as he stepped into the shower, and turned it on.

Bad move, because - hmm, nothing happened. No glorious thunder of water that usually did its own Niagara Falls over his shoulders. Not even a dribble to wet his toothbrush.

Still frowning, he unscrewed the head and shook it. Nope, no blockages that he could see, and - well, as Virgil would say, just give it more juice. Power that baby up!

Yes, that was Mr Mechanic's answer to everything. And, of course, it was his hapless brother's bad move number two.

*CRICK*

*splat*

"Gaaaaaaahhhhh!"

Ooooookaaay. So that explained the curious shortage of ketchup from last night's dinner.

Yup, most of the damn stuff was now splotched all over him - turning the fearless leader of International Rescue into a six foot four inch tomato.

Wonderful.

Stepping out of the shower again, Scott deliberately ignored the reflection that he could see in the mirror beside him. Come hell, high water, _lack_ of water - and sticky red ketchup - he was going to retain his dignity today if it killed him.

Oooooops. Wrong thing to think.

Bracing himself for whatever might be lurking in the taps on his sink unit, Scott turned them on by the tips of his outstretched fingers - still waiting for several minutes, just to make sure that the water that came pouring out of it stayed nice and clear. What, was it the previous year, or the one before that, when some fiendish little so-and-so had stuck a pack of exploding glitter up its faucet? Even now, he was sure some of it still twinkled through his hair.

Ten minutes later, thankfully de-tomatoed, Scott stepped out of his bathroom - only just quashing a yelp as Mr Fuzzylegs greeted him with a wiggle of its mandibles.

"Do that again, buddy, and I'll moosh your circuits right into the carpet."

Whirring its circuits while it still had the chance, one mechanised arachnid scuttled off to find easier prey, leaving Scott to watch its retreat with a satisfied grin. Yeah, that helped him feel better.

Ticked Off Tracy 1 - Mr Fuzzylegs 0.

"Yaaaaaaah! **_GOOOOOOR_** - _ **DOOOOOON**_!"

Uh oh. The same couldn't be said right now for Virgil. Still, it was an odd kind of comfort for Scott to know that he wasn't the only target of today's shenanigans. And as years of experience had taught him, if you couldn't beat your devil of a little brother, you just had to join him.

Still smiling at the sounds of spider-battle from along the hall, Scott opened his dresser and, one quick checkover later, pulled out a box from its furthest corner. To his greater relief, the seal of tape around it hadn't been broken, and - ooooh, yeah! Showtime!

Yes, for this one day only, Scott Carpenter Tracy was going to beat his younger brother at his own game. And if that meant dressing up in the best (and biggest) Frankenstein costume that he'd been able to find, then so be it. By the time he'd put it all on, daubed on some nicely realistic blood, cut his eyeholes out of its mask, and glued on its neck-bolts, he could have given Boris Karloff a serious run for his money.

Giving himself a final glance in his mirror, the normally dashingly handsome leader of International Rescue waddled out of his room to find his first victim. And was this really too good to be true, or was that unsuspecting victim already in sight?

His back turned so conveniently towards him, all Scott could see of him was that unmistakeable, coppery blond head. Engrossed in sending Mr Fuzzylegs to his next port of call, Gordon had no idea he was there, and - yeah, buddy. Payback time.

"GYYYY- **ARRRRRRGGGHHHHH**!"

Yeah, that would do it. Jeez, he'd made such a great job of that ghastly roar, he'd almost scared himself out of his neck-bolts. So yeah, _that'd_ teach him.

"Hey, Scott."

Or not. Yeah, trust your younger brother to thoroughly burst your bubble. Not even turning to face him, Gordon waved a vague hand instead, and carried on with his twiddling - leaving his brother to stare back at him, utterly deflated.

Oh, this wasn't fair! It wasn't fair at all! All that work he'd put in, to join in the spirit of things, and - oooooooh! Maybe he'd have better luck with Virgil! Thankfully recovered from his encounter with Mr Fuzzylegs, his middle brother was still just _begging_ to be boo-ed out of his boots.

" **BOOOO**!"

Still nose deep in his latest composition as he wandered through the den, Virgil didn't even bother to look up. Instead - aww, he _had_ to be kidding!

"Hey, Scott."

Oh, thank God he had this mask on - at least it hid the mortified face beneath it. Bad enough to be outsmarted by one little brother, but _two_? Damn, that was just downright embarrassing. All he needed for this humiliation to be complete would be for Alan to -

"Hey, Scott."

\- yup, that would do it.

Yeah, no doubt about it - the whole damn universe was against him. More convinced of that than ever, Scott shuffled to the nearest couch and flopped onto it - only to fly straight back off it again as Mr Fuzzylegs scuttled between his feet.

"Gyaaaaaahh!"

Throwing his fiercest glare towards its fiendish controller, he then froze. Let it turn into a puzzled frown. Ooookay, why was Gordon looking as freaked out as he was? Why were they _all_ looking as freaked out as he was? And why could he hear that mechanised monster whirring _behind_ him, when the damn thing was still scuttling in the opposite dir-?

Halfway through that last question, its answer hit Scott at _exactly_ the same time as it hit Virgil. _And_ Gordon. _And_ Alan. With the same, admirable unity, four voices shared the same, horrified yell as four horrified brothers leapt off the floor, and onto the nearest couch.

" _GGYYYYY_ - _ **AAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHHHHH**_!"


	13. A Recipe For Trouble

Yes, folks, here we go again! Oooh, and I'm up to chapter thirteen! Unlucky for some, of course - and definitely unlucky for Scott!

I mean, all he's trying to do is bake a cake for Virgil's birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Thirteen - A Recipe For Trouble

Checking through the various bowls and containers in front of him, Scott frowned. Well, this was... a lot more challenging than he'd thought it would be. Oh, the recipe itself was easy. His famous cookie cake, specially requested for Virgil's upcoming birthday. A favourite for everyone else's, he could make it in his sleep.

No, the 'special ingredient' that he hadn't factored into it was -

"Hey, Scott... what'cha doing?"

\- his own, selflessly eager taster, who was eyeing those chocolate buttons with just a _bit_ too much interest.

If not for the fond laughter that followed, the chastising glare that Scott now threw towards him might have worked.

"I'm making one of my cookie cakes, Allie... for Virgil's birthday."

To him, of course, it was obvious. But for a six year old who was too damn curious for his own good - nope, further inspection was _definitely_ needed. Besides, he was hungry, and those chocolate buttons were just _sooo_ tempting.

Climbing up onto a neighbouring stool, Alan tugged at Scott's sleeve, and followed that little prompt up with his very best ' _no_ - _I'm_ - _really_ - _not_ - _up_ - _to_ - _anything_ ' smile.

"Cool! Can I help you make it?"

' _Nice_ _try_ , _little bro_ '... _nice try_.'

Seeing straight through that little ploy, Scott grinned back at him while nudging the real cause for such helpfulness a bit further out of reach.

"Thanks, kiddo, but no... I've got this," he chuckled, nodding outside to where Gordon was climbing up the diving board beside the pool. "Hey, it's a gorgeous day out there. Don't you want to go swimming with Gordon?"

Watching his brother fly happily into the water, Alan then pointed to where Virgil stood in ever watchful, lifeguard mode alongside.

"Nah, he'd only keep splashing me... and Virgil would only make me wear my wings, like I'm still a baby."

Ah, the timeless wisdom of a six year old - answered with the same patience of his even wiser big brother.

"Only because he wants you to be safe, Allie... and because he knows you found learning to swim a bit harder than Gordon did."

Ye-ah, like that was ever going to work. From his little brother's expression alone, Scott knew this was one argument that he just wasn't going to win. Still, at least he'd be able to keep the other half of the Terrible Twins under the same surveillance as the one outside. And having your little brother snuggle up to you like this, like you were the greatest hero in the world - well, no, it really wasn't so bad.

Hugging him back, Scott then pulled a carton of eggs to within Alan's reach, and nodded towards the mixing bowl between them.

"Okay, if you really want to help me, you can break these eggs into that bowl there."

An easy enough task for him, of course - not quite so much for a kid brother who took things just a tad too literally.

*thwack* *thwack*

*sploop*

"Finished!"

Staring at the glorious mess of yolks, whites and eggshells in front of him, Scott had to admit it was an interesting technique. In all his years of teaching himself to cook, he'd never used his roll-pin to break eggs before.

Still struggling not to laugh, and so grateful he still had plenty to spare, he then showed his little helper how it should be done.

"Thanks, Allie, but... well, what I meant was to break them _really_ gently, like this... and keep the bits of shell to one side, so we can throw them away."

Oooops. From the way Alan was staring at him, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

"But isn't that kinda bad, Scott? I mean, isn't that a waste?"

"Unless you want a really crunchy cake, Allie... yes, we _do_ need to throw them away."

Or not, he dryly corrected himself - deciding he really didn't want to know what his little conservationist was going to do with all those eggshells. Instead, he reached for the jar of flour that still needed to be sifted before he added the sugar. Another nice and easy job for his eager beaver student. And one that wouldn't require the use of his rolling pin.

"Okay, next thing we need to do is to add this flour to-"

*thonk*

*ka-poof*

Spluttering through a cloud of flour-powder, Scott took a deep breath - dryly adding the afterthought that had come just a tad too late.

"No, Allie, not all in one go... just a bit at a time, okay? Slowly and gently through this sieve, 'til you've got all the lumps out."

Simple, right? Well, yes - if you didn't have a brother for whom the words 'slowly' and 'gently' just didn't exist.

"'kay, Scott... but if you bounce it all real fast, like _this_..."

"...it kinda goes where you don't want it to."

Reaching for a cloth, Scott then wiped up the worktop that had suddenly acquired a rather sweet layer of 'flour-fall.' But not before Alan had left a line of fingersteps through it, that just _happened_ to lead to that box of buttons.

" _Alan_."

Usually, if he was _really_ lucky, that tone of voice managed to nip any planned mischief in the bud. Right now, though, faced by such a grin of chocolatey innocence, all that stern resolve crumbled into a helpless smile.

Yes, these were the times when he had all the brotherly authority of a lettuce leaf. _Damn it_!

"Okay, you little Cookie Monster, that's enough," he said at last, rolling his eyes as one last button quickly flipped itself into Alan's mouth. "Now, _no more_ , or you won't leave me enough to finish this cake."

Put like that, of course, his supply of choccy buttons were now safe from any more 'taste tests.' Those chocolate fingers, though - yup, got 'em just in time.

Moving them, and his pots of sprinkles and twists out of harm's way, Scott then realized he faced another tricky problem. If he was to finish this cake at all, with or without this unexpected help, he was going to need his mixer. _And_ the finishing touch that had brought a dangerous gleam into his little brother's eyes.

All sorts of scenarios now flashed through his mind for that first part - the one he dreaded most of all putting him instantly into 'serious-big-brother' mode.

"Now, Alan, I need to use this mixer, and its whisks go really fast... so we've gotta be real careful here, and make sure you _don't_ touch it while I'm using it... okay?"

Adding his best 'I-mean-it' look, just to make sure, Scott then fitted the mixer together and, smiling at how intently Alan was watching him, lowered it into his main mixing bowl and turned it on.

Aaaaaand - nothing happened. Or, rather, nothing happened until he lifted it up to inspect it - and a happily helpful voice piped up beside him.

"Hey, Scott, you forgot to turn on the outlet."

*click*

*SPLAT*

Well, this was great. Just great. Instead of making his famous cookie cake, he was now wearing it. Still, at least Alan thought it was funny. And under a gloopy mask of cookie dough, Scott was finding it damn hard not to laugh too.

Dryly wondering how hard it could be to make a ten minute cake, he quickly cleaned himself down, then rolled up his sleeves - smiling once more at the way Alan did the same with his. Jeez, there were times when he felt like he had a little blond shadow, mirroring his every move.

Kinda cute, though, he had to admit - as was the way Alan snuggled back against him as they returned to the task in hand. Little mishaps aside, he'd rather enjoyed it.

Ten minutes later, and to Scott's relief, one perfectly mixed cookie cake slid into the oven, leaving him free to -

"So, Scott... are we gonna make this now?"

\- stare down at the recipe book that Alan was holding so eagerly towards him, then stare at his youngest brother in the same disbelief.

"You - You want me to make _that_?" he said at last, not knowing whether to laugh or cry as Alan nodded, beaming even more hopefully up at him.

"Yeah, for _my_ birthday!"

For his birth-... oh, good grief.

Rubbing his eyes, Scott turned back to study the picture in front of him. Yes, trust his little brother to fall in love with the rocket cake that also involved the most complex recipe. _And_ frosting. _And_ all that lettering.

"Alan, your birthday isn't for another four months. It'd be stale by then. Nearly as hard as Grandma's meatloaf."

Irrefutable reasoning, of course - but not to the mind of a six year old who'd just seen the best birthday cake he'd ever wanted.

"Yeah, I know, but... well, Scott, I kinda think you need the same practice as she does!"

Staring down at himself, Scott had to admit his little brother had a pretty valid point. Resigning himself to the fact that he'd look much worse by the end of the morning, he then reached once more for his scales, and a fresh pot of flour.

"Okay, kiddo, start reading it out for me..."


	14. Trollbusters!

Hmm, I'm seeing a bit of a pattern here. Intentionally or not, I seem to be writing a lot of Little!Alan stories for this series. I must admit, I wasn't a great fan of the original Alan, but his updated version has really grown on me - he's just adorable!

So, here's another one, as poor Allie gets the night-time spookies. Yes, when you've got a big, nasty monster under your bed, who ya gonna call?

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Fourteen - Trollbusters!

Stretched out on his bed, Scott Tracy knew that watching one of his favourite horror movies this late at night was just asking for trouble. Most of his popcorn had already been 'jumped' out of its bowl, and he was now so wired up waiting for the next scary bit that any handfuls that _were_ left kept missing his mouth.

What bugged him even more was that he'd seen this movie dozens of times already, he _knew_ where all those 'jump-out-your-skin' bits were, and -

"SCOOOOTTTTYYYYY!"

\- no, in all the times he'd watched it, the blood-curdling yell that now startled the jeebies out of him _hadn't_ come from his TV.

Through clumps of falling popcorn, Scott shot out of bed, and sprinted into the hall, running instinctively to its farthest end. It was an indescribable relief when he saw Gordon there already, sitting outside Alan's room - but still a shock when he saw his youngest brother huddled in his lap, so inexplicably terrified that not even he could coax him out. Instead, it was left to Gordon to try and explain these awful, heartbreaking tears.

"Allie's bed, Scott... there's a big nasty troll under Allie's bed."

Quite how he'd managed to translate all that from all those sobs and sniffles, Scott couldn't start to fathom. All he _did_ know was that some imaginary monster had scared his baby brother, scared him enough to scream like he'd never heard him scream before, and - yeah. For _any_ threat to his family, real or otherwise, that was a really, _really_ , bad move.

"Oh, is there, now? Well, we'll soon see about _that_."

Intentionally or otherwise, that got his youngest brother's attention. Still huddled between them, and thankfully calmer, Alan was now all wide eyed wonder - reassured enough to reach across into Scott's arms, and snuggle against him for a much needed cuddle. Gordon, too, was staring up at him with a mix of surprise, relief, and sheer, hero-worshipping awe.

Smiling too, if for rather different reasons, Scott gave them both another encouraging hug - slipping easily back from Butt-Kicking Brother, to the one that both of them needed him to be.

"Okay, Gordy, you stay here, and look after your brother... I'll be right back to get this monster out the house, and make sure he stays out... okay?"

Answered by two, thankfully happier nods, Scott then rose to his feet again, and strode back to his bedroom. The last time he'd needed this little emergency kit had been for Virgil, when he'd been around Alan's age, and - aha! There it was, still tucked into his closet. And while it wasn't the coolest thing for a teenager to do, Scott just couldn't keep the grin off his face as he checked it over. One rather important part of it was a bit shabby now, but - well, no problem. He could soon fix that.

Five minutes later, he came marching back again - pillowcase in one hand, and spray can in the other. Still huddled in the hallway, Gordon and Alan traded glances. Yes, they'd both seen that glare on his face enough times to know what it meant, and... ooooh, Scotty looked _real_ mad!

"Hey, Trollface? You in there?" he yelled, banging on the door while giving his can of 'Special Recipe Monster Spray' a nicely dramatic shake. "Well, start running, you hear me? 'cos no troll in the world gets away with scaring _my_ little brother!"

Remembering he still had two impressionable little brothers beside him, Scott then turned to give them a reassuring grin.

"Right, Gordy? You stay here, and look after Allie... and whatever you're about to hear, _don't_ come in after me... I don't want either of you to get hurt while I'm sorting out this troll... okay?"

Answered with two wide eyed nods, Scott squared his shoulders and, with one last shake of his pillowcase, opened the door and strode into Spook Central.

"Okay, buddy, you asked for it! I'm coming to get you!"

Closing the door behind him, he had to bite down a splutter of laughter. Yes, if ever there was proof that a three year old's bedroom could never be tidy, this was it. Toys, games and plushies covered the floor, while yesterday's clothes lay in a tangled heap beside Alan's bed. Still, that pile of socks would come in pretty handy as the body of one thoroughly trounced 'troll.'

Speaking of which - well, yes, he had to admit, he just _loved_ this bit.

A few thumps and crashes to start with - courtesy of some gently flung pillows, and the ingenious use of a bathroom door.

*whack*

*boommf*

*ka-thump*

Oh yes, and sound effects too. No self respecting TrollBuster could forget about those.

"Gyaaaarrrrgghhhhhhh!"

"Whooooooeeeeyaarrggghhh!"

And last, but most definitely not least, the kind of yell that assured your little brothers that the good guy was winning.

"Hey, I told you to run, didn't I? Yeah, see what you get for scaring my little brother? Now, get in this sack!"

Yep. Releasing his own inner child had never been such fun! Too much fun, in fact, for it to end so soon.

"Groooooarrrryyyrrrr!"

"Don't you ' _groooooarrrryyyrrr'_ me, you big ugly heap! Now, GET IN THIS SACK!"

Whoa! If he said so himself, that was pretty impressive - enough of a yell to scare off every troll in the Pacific, let alone the ones on Tracy Island. Just to make sure, though, Scott lightly kicked the edge of Alan's bed, adding a few more thumps along his closet, before tossing that handy pile of socks into his 'sack.' And for his own, personal indulgence - yeah, one more yell wasn't going to hurt, was it?

"Gyyyyyeeeee-owwwwwwwlll!"

Catching sight of himself in a nearby mirror, the goofy grin of an overgrown child turned into an 'uh-oh' frown. Oh, he was still a strikingly tall teenager, all big blue eyes and adorable dimples, but one that was - well, a bit _too_ handsome for a troll-busting hero who'd just fought all these dastardly demons.

Still, that was easily solved. He'd never liked this T shirt much anyway, and he'd always preferred his hair to look all tousled and mussy. One ripped sleeve and double-handed ruffle later, and - oh, yes. _Much_ better.

The fight wasn't over yet, of course. No, for its full effect, and for Alan's benefit especially, that pesky troll had to try and escape. Time to put those wannabe actor ambitions to good use. Yeah, you could keep your alligator wrestling. Pillow wrestling was _much_ more fun.

Taking a few more moments to get that giveaway grin under control, Scott then opened the door and, for the benefit of his audience outside it, gave one nicely loaded pillowcase the mother of waggles.

"Yeah, you can fight all you want, you creepy little critter... but one way or another, you're getting out of this house!"

No self-respecting troll would give in so easily, though - and for two spellbound little boys, the sight of their eldest brother fighting a monster inside an old pillowcase was one of the strangest things they'd ever seen. Really exciting, though. Much more exciting than some babyish cartoons. And against their big, brave brother, whatever was in that sack didn't stand a chance.

For Scott, of course, it was all part of the game - hence the flash of alarm he felt when Alan, like every curious toddler in the world, tried to steal a quick peek at it. Still, if there was one thing that growing up with four little brothers had taught him, it was the art of quick thinking. Or, in this case, _very_ quick thinking.

"Oh, no, Allie, you can't look at it, kiddo, 'cos... well, if you do, it'll just scare you again... and you really don't want that, do you?"

Breathing a real sigh of relief when Alan shook his head and waddled away again, Scott then grinned and winked at him, before carrying his still gently waggling quarry along the hall, to the nearest door that led outside.

"Yeah, you heard me! Out! Out! And STAY OUT!"

A few more thumps and crashes later, he returned to a well earned, and thoroughly deserved hero's return - more than happy now to open up his sack, and show Alan that, yes, the monster inside it really was gone.

"And he isn't in here either, Allie... see?" he grinned, opening the door to Alan's room again, and carrying him inside to let him see how nice and safe it was. No monsters anywhere, not even in his closet.

When he'd done the same for Virgil, of course, his middle brother had been reassured enough to go straight back to bed, _and_ back to sleep. From the way that Alan was still clinging to him, though, his baby brother wouldn't be so easily placated. And wherever Alan went, you could be sure that Gordon wouldn't be far behind.

Like two peas in a pod, Scott thought fondly, studying them both in turn as he settled himself on top of Alan's bed and snuggled them against him. Only that tint of copper in Gordon's hair, and those amber brown eyes, stood as any real difference between them. And when it came to causing mischief and mayhem, running rings around their long suffering big brother - yes, these Terrible Twins more than lived up to their name.

Not at the moment, though. No, curled snugly against him, they were just two very sleepy little boys, who were still too excited by the night's adventures to give into it. Luckily, he had the answer to that, too, because - well, big brothers had the answers to _everything_.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I am _so_ tired... all ready to bunk down," he said at last, adding such a long and loud yawn that Gordon could almost see right down to his toes.

Settling back into the pillows behind him, Scott gently kissed each tousled head in turn, then closed his eyes, and yawned once more - knowing from the sounds and movements beside him that both Gordon and Alan were doing exactly the same. Yes, he thought through an approving smile, no better way to get two tired little brothers to sleep than to pretend you were doing it first.

As always, it worked like a charm. Lulled by the best comforter in the world, Gordon and Alan soon fell into a deep, carefree sleep. Once sure that they'd settled, and not daring to disturb them, Scott then stretched himself more comfortably along the length of Alan's bed, and closed his eyes - more than ready to go to sleep himself for real this time. Fighting all these trolls and monsters _really_ took it out of you.

Almost at once, though, his eyes blinked open again - turning to stare in a puzzled frown towards Alan's closet. That creak he'd just heard - he _had_ just imagined it.

 _Right_?


	15. Squirt

Ooooh, another prompt! Thanks so much to bronze andromeda shun, for inspiring my plot bunnies with this latest idea. And after all these Little!Alan stories, I thought it would be nice to give Little!John his turn in the spotlight - with some Little!Virgil thrown in for good measure.

So, then, here's a _very_ young Scott - finding out the hard way that trying to look after his baby brother doesn't always go to plan!

Again, I've used my own headcanon ages for this story, so Scott's around eight, John's five, and Virgil's just turned two. Oh, and for all you Alan fans - sorry, he isn't even a twinkle in Jeff's eye. Besides, poor Scott already has his hands full with just two little brothers, let alone four! And as for Gordon - well, he isn't part of the family either. _Yet_.

Thanks again to bronze andromeda shun for giving my bunnies such a great carrot to nibble on. I hope you enjoy what they've come up with!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Fifteen - Squirt

When his baby brother had first arrived, John Tracy had been _reaaally_ excited. Not quite as excited as Scott, but still fascinated by the tiny bundle that mom and dad had brought home from the hospital. To him, Virgil was like a toy that was so real it was _alive_! He could stare at him, talk to him, play with him - and he'd make all these weird faces and noises right back. Yes, having a new baby brother around had been really cool.

He wasn't excited any more, though. Or happy. Instead, he was _reaaally_ annoyed.

"Waaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"

Folding his arms, John glared at the crib in front of him. Dumb baby! Why did he have to keep yelling like this, when _he_ was trying to watch TV?

Seeing his other, much better big brother come into the nursery, he felt a bit happier. Scotty would know why Virgil kept yelling, and crying, and wriggling like this. Scotty knew _everything_.

"Johnny? What'cha doin'?"

Uh oh. Scotty didn't look too pleased. He was frowning at him, a bit like daddy frowned when he did something naughty, like the time he'd put soap in his slippers. But to the mind of a five year old, he wasn't doing anything wrong here, he was just -

"Tryin' to turn him off 'cos he's too noisy, an' I can't hear my cartoons."

\- pointing out the obvious to his big brother who, for some reason, found what he'd said really, _really_ funny.

"He isn't a toy, Johnny, he's a _baby_... you _can't_ turn him off," Scott explained, still laughing as he gave his brother the kind of hug that said he wasn't really mad at him.

Placated still more by his favourite plushie, John thought about this for a moment, then glared back at his still snuffling brother.

" _Mommy_ can turn him off."

Rolling his eyes - 'cos he did that an awful lot too, just like daddy - Scott gave him another hug while using his other hand to gently rub Virgil's stomach. He had to admit that his younger brother had a point. He'd only been in the room a few seconds, and all this yelling was making his head spin too.

"Well, mommy isn't here, she's gone to the doctor's with daddy."

Maybe it was their parents' absence, but his normally happy brother still didn't look it at all as he pointed back at Virgil.

"Gramma can make him stop too."

Sighing with a patience way beyond his years, Scott tried once more to placate his two fractious little brothers. Even at the tender age of eight, it was proving to be a full time job.

"Grandma's busy, Johnny, she's cooking dinner... but it's okay, he'll stop in a minute. See? He's so busy watching me play with him, he's gonna forget what he was crying about."

Well, that was the plan. Scott hoped this favourite game of 'tickling tummies' would calm his baby brother down. It usually did. And for a moment, it looked like it had. Huge, golden brown eyes blinked up at him, as Virgil's face crinkled into a gurgling grin. But then his face puckered up again, and he unleashed another, massive wail. And for his next oldest brother, it was the final straw.

"Can't we take him back, Scotty? Get another one that's nice an' quiet?"

Rolling his eyes again, Scott then shook his head while gently nudging a bottle of formula into Virgil's mouth.

"He's just hungry, Johnny... like _you_ always used to be hungry, when _you_ were real little like him. We just need to give him some of this special milk."

"Do we _have_ to?" John pulled another face as waves of things that smelled really bad drifted up from Virgil's crib. "Whatever mommy keeps feeding him, it's _really_ stinky."

Pulling a face too, Scott then brightened as he pointed to a small bench that their father had set up next to Virgil's crib.

"Yes, Johnny, we've _got_ to feed him, or he won't grow up all big and strong like us. But first, we've got to change him."

As he'd hoped, his brother looked much happier about that - just not for the reasons he'd meant.

"So we _are_ gonna take him back? Get another one 'stead?"

Still trying to decide if his brother was serious, or just trying to annoy him, Scott shook his head again.

"No, Johnny, I meant change his _diaper_. That's why he's crying so much, he needs a new one, 'cos this one's all full up."

Working this out for himself already, John frowned. Even at the tender age of five, he could see this really wasn't a very good idea.

"You sure, Scott? He's _reaaaally_ stinky."

"Well, he won't stop yelling 'til we do, and Grandma's making dinner, so we don't wanna make her come all the way up here for nothing," Scott told him, huffing slightly as he lifted Virgil up and carried him gently to the bench beside him. "'sides, I've watched mommy do this _loads_ of times. And daddy too, I know _exactly_ what to do."

Laying his brother down, Scott then found the first hitch in his brilliant, ' _what_ - _mommy_ - _and_ - _daddy_ - _do_ - _I_ - _can_ - _do_ - _too_ ' plan. Against his much smaller hands, Virgil was _really_ wriggly! Like a worm he'd find outside, but bigger, with tufts of thick hair. But Scott was determined to see his plan through. Mom kept telling him he was really good at reading, and the bag beside him had all that writing on the side to tell him what to do! Even if he didn't look at all sure about it, he was sure Johnny would lend a hand too.

Okay, first thing to do - take off this horrible, stinky diaper, and... aww, _yee-uck_! All that gooey stuff inside it smelled really, _really_ bad! So bad that he really didn't blame Johnny for turning around and running out of the nursery. If he'd been able to, he'd have run away too, and... ooooooh, maybe his brother had been right. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

*pisssssssshhhh*

"Yeeeeuuuugghhhh!"

Yuck! No, not a good idea at all. Now his face was all wet, and... eeeewwww! Aww, his favourite T shirt was all wet too, with more stinky stuff that he really didn't want to think about.

Luckily, John had come back now, with Grandma. And while his brother was too young to realize why his face was all wet, his grandmother did. Found it so funny that she burst out laughing as she came to stand beside him, and gave him one of her very best hugs.

"Yes, that's my Scooter... always trying to help me look after his little brothers," she chuckled, stooping to kiss the top of his head, but then changing her mind just in time, and giving him another cuddle instead. "Now, why don't you and your brother go wash up for dinner, and go watch your cartoons? I'll see to Virgil, and fix you some milk to have with some of your mom's cookies. Okay?"

Oh yes, that helped him feel _much_ better. He'd have preferred some of her apple pie, of course, but mom's cookies were still really nice too. Before he had any of that, though, Scott wanted to get himself nice and clean again - preferably without John following him into his bathroom, and asking him all these questions.

"Scotty, why's your face all wet? What _is_ that? An' how did it get right up in your _hair_?!"

By the time he'd answered that last bit, Scott Carpenter Tracy was sure that having two little brothers in his life was going to be really, _really_ hard work. Still, he'd only need to do that when mommy and daddy weren't around, and... oooooh, that was the door! That meant they were home!

With John at his heels, Scott ran downstairs into the main hall, just in time to see their parents take off their coats. Despite the rain outside, they were laughing. _Really_ happy, hugging each other, and leaning down to cuddle him and Johnny too. Just like they'd done when they'd come from the doctor's that other time, and told him they had some _really_ exciting news.

For John, of course, a trip to the family doctor meant something else entirely. Sucking happily on his favourite Tootsie Roll, he sat snuggled between his brother and his parents - in truth, still too young himself to know why this big news that daddy had to tell them about was such a big deal.

"Well, boys, I hope you're going to be as happy and as excited as your mom and me... because in a few months time, you're going to have a little brother. _Or_ a little sister. So we all need to take real good care of mommy from now on, okay?"

Watching his big brother's reaction, John frowned. Oh, Scotty looked happy enough - all smiling and laughing too, just like their mom and dad. But with this new baby coming, he was going to have to learn how to change it, without getting all wet again. Still, even if it made mommy and daddy laugh, and Scotty glare at him, like the way Scotty always glared at him, he'd already found it a _perfect_ name.

"Mommy? If it's a little boy, like Scott, and me, and Virgil... can we call him Squirt?"


	16. Sweet Dreams

You know, when I started this series of stories, I never imagined it would reach this many chapters! Of course, I couldn't have done it without my lovely reviewers, prompting me with these great suggestions!

Oh, and a quick message to Elephantqueen1, who kindly reviewed my last chapter, and asked for one where Scott has to take care of his brothers when they're sick.

Unfortunately, I couldn't reply to you directly, because it was a guest review - but I've already written a story on this theme, and posted it up separately on this site. It's called Ick!

If you read it, I hope you enjoy it!

Okay, on with this latest chapter - and a situation for Scott that isn't _quite_ what it seems!

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Sixteen - Sweet Dreams

In a snug huddle of bedclothes, Scott Tracy smiled an utterly happy smile. Oh, wow! If this wasn't a dream to just beat 'em all. Soaring through the sky, in one of dad's old training planes. For a fourteen year old who'd been born to fly, it really was a dream come true.

If just in his subconscious, he reached out towards all those tantalising levers in front of him, all set to start his descent back down to the ground, and -

*poink*

\- ooooookaaaay, at a height of five thousand feet, he'd have to say this wasn't in the manual.

*poink*

No, when he'd made his pre-flight checks back in the hangar he'd been pretty sure there'd been no-one else around.

*poink*

Hmmm, curiouser and curiouser. Not only did he have a stowaway on board, it just had to be the most persistent one on the planet, who also seemed intent on 'poinking' his shoulder out of its socket.

After being so soundly asleep, it took several attempts to open his eyes, and focus them on his unexpected passenger. Blinking and frowning, Scott then stared as the tiny figure he'd just seen standing on his port wing, waving happily back at him, gradually materialised into its real equivalent.

"S'otty? You'wake?"

'I am _now_!'

Oh, yeah. Like such sarcasm would hold any sway with a four year old.

"Sure, Allie, I'm... um... 'wake," he mumbled instead, the last remnants of sleep obliging him to match his youngest brother's rather limited powers of speech.

Within the same moment, though, he really _was_ awake - any annoyance he might have felt swept aside by a much stronger instinct. John and Virgil might jokingly call it his 'cluck alert' but when your baby brother wandered into your room at this time of night, or _any_ time of night... hell, he could never ignore it.

Sitting up in a tumble of bedclothes, Scott's eyes swept over his littlest brother in an instinctive check for damage. Finding none, he relaxed again, if just slightly, and yawned out the next, inevitable questions.

"Alilie? Hey, kiddo, you okay? Why aren't you asleep?"

Still standing beside his bed, Alan just shrugged - as if poking his eldest brother awake at two in the morning was the most natural thing in the world.

"Don' wanna."

Caught between exasperation and helpless laughter, Scott settled for a combination of both - a wry smile, wrapped up in a rueful afterthought.

' _Well_ , _newsflash for you_ , _buddy_... _some of us kinda do_.'

Hmm, more sarcasm, for his little brother to appreciate in a few years time. Right now, though, Scott grinned out another question, even as its answer started to climb up the side of his bed.

"Okay, Allie... if you don't wanna sleep, what _do_ you wanna do?"

Two skinny little arms, stretched up towards him, kinda covered that. So did the giggle as he lifted Alan the rest of the way into his lap.

" _Cuddies_!"

Yup, right on the money, and... _damn_ , he was good! Just four years old, and he had his biggest big brother right where he wanted him - wrapped as tightly as he pleased around his little finger. And, it seemed, just as tightly wound around his favourite plushie.

"Me an' Buggles wan' 'nother story."

Uh huh. In the real world, of course, stuffed rabbits were inanimate objects who didn't listen to bedtime stories. But faced as he now was, with two massive blue eyes and such a hopeful smile, there was no way in the world that he was going to say that. Instead, Scott threw a grin of both exasperation and empathy towards the rather battered rabbit in Alan's arms. When you couldn't sleep, and wanted 'cuddies and stories' from your favourite big brother - yeah, just pin it on some poor, blameless bunny.

"Oh, does he now?" he chuckled, settling back into his pillows with a baby brother curled up against one side, and a giant rabbit tucked beside the other. "Okay, so... uh, what kinda story do you and Buggles want to hear?"

A simple enough question for him, of course - but one that, to helpless laughter, required a lengthy debate between a boy and his bunny. Finally, with the seriousness that only a four year old could generate, Alan announced their decision.

"One wi' bunnies... _magic_ bunnies."

One with mag-... oh, good grief. The eldest son of one of America's most distinguished pilots and astronauts should _not_ be making up stories about magical rabbits! And if he didn't let the rest of this laughter out soon, he was going to crack a rib.

Gratefully releasing a few, rib-saving splutters, Scott then pulled his face back into the closest thing to seriousness he could manage.

" _Magic bunnies_?" he said at last, grinning once more as a glance around his room gave him some truly blessed inspiration. "You mean bunnies that can _fly_? You know, like daddy does, in those pictures there?"

Staring too at the jet planes that screamed at mach three around Scott's wall, Alan turned back to study him through eyes so big, they threatened to roll clear out of his face.

"Bunnies can _fly?!_ "

Damn it, there went another rib. Before he could stop laughing long enough to answer, though, another excited discussion whizzed across his stomach. Then, with a delight that threatened to break the rest of them, Air Cadet Buggles was proudly tugged onto his chest.

"Buggles wan's to fly."

Aaaaaaand - bingo. Through the wonders of his imagination... yes, one lucky stuffed bunny was about to go airborne.

"Well, that's good, Allie, because only very _special_ magical bunnies get to fly," Scott grinned, gently tucking this special bunny back in beside its owner. "See, you need to be real smart, and clever, and brave, to be a _flying_ bunny."

Snuggled against him, Alan's face was a study of wonder. Such innocence that, Scott thought through a wistful smile, he wished he could bottle and keep for a lifetime.

"Like daddy?"

"Yes, like daddy," Scott chuckled, hoping against hope that this would sate his little brother's curiosity - and rolling his eyes when, of course, it didn't even come close.

"So where, Scotty?"

Aw, _hell_!

"Where _what_ , Allie?"

"Where do they c'me from?"

About to ask who 'they' were, Scott then stopped himself just in time - and threw out the first answer that came into his sleep deprived brain.

"Um... Bunnyland."

Hmm. From the frowning puzzlement of his audience, he was going to have to do better than that. Luckily, the answer was right there in front of him.

"Yeah, you see this little label here? Well, any bunny that has this label on him comes from Bunnyland... so that means they know how to fly."

Oh, such brilliance! Such ingenuity! Such gratitude that Alan was too young to realize that 'Lovingly Made In Texas' now stood for 'Lovingly Made In Bunnyland.'

"How?"

Such temptation, to take the easy way out, and show how aerodynamic a stuffed toy could be! And yes, if just for a second, Scott found himself calculating the distance and angles between Air Cadet Buggles, and the hoop on his bedroom door.

Keeping that safely inside his imagination, he then sighed as he tried to find a better solution. Of course, his options were kinda limited, and... oooookay, it was a bit of an obvious shot, but... well, at this time of night, he was willing to try anything.

"Well, Allie, they use their ears. I mean, you see how _big_ they are? So... yeah, see, that's how magical bunnies like Buggles here manage to fly. They wiggle and waggle their ears _real_ fast... like this."

Yes, if he said so himself, flapping those huge ears had been a brilliant stroke of genius! Alan looked pretty happy about it, too, and... aww, for the sake of his suffering ribs, he _had_ to be kidding!

"Is that how daddy flies? By w'gging his ears?"

Struggling against it, Scott then surrendered to the inevitable. Held his tortured ribs, and gave in to splutters of laughter that, oddly enough, he found damn hard to stop. Even then, stray giggles still managed to sneak their way through the words that eventually followed.

"No, Allie, he... uh, doesn't need to do that. See, when he goes flying in his plane, the... uh... wings are like Buggles' ears... I mean, they don't wiggle, but they... um... well, they let the plane take off, and stay in the air... letting daddy fly."

That had to do it, surely? Please, God, that _had_ to do it, and... oh, thank you, God!

" _I_ wanna fly too... like daddy."

 _Yes_! Relief for his long suffering ribs! And, just maybe, a chance to get some sleep before Gordon launched one of his 'bouncy-brother-out-of-bed' raids.

"Well, when you grow up and get bigger, there's no reason why you shouldn't," Scott grinned, taking full advantage of another deep yawn to tuck his little brother a bit more under the bedclothes. "But if you want to grow up all tall, and strong, like me, and go flying, like daddy, you need to get _loooooots_ of sleep."

To the eyes of his big brother, of course, he was asleep already - just too damn stubborn to admit it. Gradually, though, snuggled in Scott's arms, and with his magically heroic Buggles there beside him, Alan yawned once more, then closed his eyes. By the time Scott finished tucking him in, he was out for the count - oblivious to the soft kiss that sent him into the wonders of his dreams.

Once sure that he'd settled, Scott rested his cheek on top of Alan's head, and closed his eyes too - letting himself drift away into his own magical world of soaring planes, baby brothers. And flying bunnies.

* * *

Scott came to with a start. Disoriented for a moment, he glanced around the den - then smiled as the last remnants of his dream dispersed, and memory returned.

Yes, it had been a humdinger of a rescue, that had left both him and Alan utterly exhausted. Hell, they'd barely made it to the couch before collapsing onto it - mumbling vague gratitude for Virgil's offer of hot chocolate and cookies.

By the time he'd returned, they'd clearly crashed out. Slept soundly right through the rest of the night, and... oooooh, almost to lunchtime! So yes, that explained the stone-cold pot beside him. The rather depleted plateful of Penny's best cookies, that now formed a late but delicious breakfast. And, most of all, it explained the tousled head that was using his shoulder as a pillow.

Still smiling as he watched Alan sleep so peacefully against him, Scott's eyes then settled on the portraits in front of him. Yes, the blond hair hadn't changed, but the baby brother beneath it surely had. Yes, little Allie was now growing fast, into a brilliantly gifted pilot - whose first flight had been with a magical rabbit.

Just as he'd done then, Scott rested his cheek on top of Alan's head and closed his eyes - whispering a very happy afterthought as he drifted back to sleep.

"Yeah, you see, Allie? The very best of dreams really _do_ come true."


	17. He Who Laughs Last

Hmm, from a simple idea, I've now written seventeen chapters, and received over a hundred reviews! Wow! Thanks to all of you, so much!

So, then, here's the latest. And after being a bit neglected during the last few stories, Gordon's back! Yes, it's our favourite prankster, doing what he does best.

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Seventeen - He Who Laughs Last

" _ **GOOOOOOORRRR** - **DOOOOONNN**_ **!** "

Aw, _damn it_! Nothing like that kind of yell to get your day off to a fantastic start. _And_ make you choke on your pancakes.

Glancing up at the clock above him, Scott groaned once more. Rubbed away the start of a headache, while using his other hand to mop up his coffee. Jeez, couldn't the world's most long suffering big brother just get his breakfast in peace?

Just _one_ morning?

 _Please_?

" ** _GOOOOOOORRRR_ - _DOOOOONNN_! ** Get your butt in here **,** so I can kick it back in that pool!"

Nope. Not today. _Definitely_ not today. And... aww, it wasn't even April Fools! Then again, in Gordon's eyes, _every_ day was April Fools Day.

Still, at least he wasn't the only one who was having one of those mornings. From the force of his voice alone - whoa, was that clock on the wall actually _shaking_?! - his middle brother was _not_ a happy camper. And while he was pretty sure that Virgil was just kidding about this whole butt-kicking thing... hmmm. Best to get up to the den, and just be around to make sure.

Halfway up the stairs, Scott then took the rest of them two at a time. After the thunderous dawn of the apocalypse, things had just turned really, _really_ , quiet. As soon as his eyes gained their line of sight, he swept them around the den, bracing himself for... well, God knew what. For Virgil to be this mad at him, their brother must have done something really, _really_... oh, good grief.

Staring at the scene in front of him, Scott now faced a serious problem. If he laughed, or smiled, or just breathed too loudly, his constantly endangered life would come to an unfairly early end. But if he tried to keep it all in, then - well, yes, he'd just explode instead.

So, then - death by brother, or death by self-induced combustion. Yep, from whatever angle he looked at this situation - and from here, it was just about _perfect_ \- he was in serious trouble. Almost as much trouble as the angel faced demon who'd caused it all in the first place.

"Hey, Scott!"

And who'd just made _him_ the target for a glare that made him physically cringe. For a growling promise of truly dire consequences.

"You so much as smirk, I'll tape you to the ceiling."

Wondering how the hell _he'd_ gotten to be the bad guy, Scott held up his hands. Of course, that was like trying to stop a charging grizzly bear with a stick of celery, but... well, without his trusty old baseball bat, they were all he had to hand. And if all else failed, he'd just toss that celery instead, and yell at said bear to ' _Go_ , _fetch_!'

Ooooops. Wrong thing to think.

*splurk*

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I'm pretty sure he laughed, Virg. And that sure looks like a smirk to me!"

"SHUT UP, GORDON!"

Ah, unity! Common ground, on which to yell at the real villain of the piece. A chance to remind Mr Grizzly over there that, hey, _none_ of this was _his_ fault!

Still toying with the idea of fetching his bat, Scott then edged his way into the Tracy version of an old Western showdown. At one end of the street stood Gordon, while at the other... no, he just didn't dare to look. Instead, he folded his arms, and threw 'The Glare' towards its most regular recipient.

"Okay, Gordon... spill it."

Aha! Gotcha! Yeah, Squid Boy, you _did_ it - _you_ pay for it!

Before he could say anything, though, another dangerously low growl saved him the trouble - if not his still threatened butt.

"Maybe he should just _show_ you? Just to make sure the punishment fits the crime?"

Uh oh. Glancing back at his brother, all sorts of _'oh-my-God'_ scenarios flashed through Scott's mind. The last time their resident prankster had incurred this much wrath, he'd attached trains of sparkly toilet rolls to Thunderbird Two's tailfin. And given the current state of her pilot... yup, he felt a nice, long vacation coming on. Somewhere quiet, and peaceful, and brotherless, and... hmm, surely John was due for a trip home soon? Yeah, let _him_ face this bunch of maniacs for a while.

Ah yes, the best advantage of being the eldest! When it came to the big decisions, such as vacations, and vacations, and vacations, _he_ got to call the shots. When they reached the silos, the scene in front of him made him wish he had his bags packed already.

Yes, these were the times when the head of International Rescue felt more like a kindergarten teacher. And when this latest little escapade was over, he was going to make this his number one rule.

NO MORE PAINTBALLING!

Seriously, of all the places to try out your weaponry, Thunderbird Two's hangar wasn't it. To say it had a new look was putting it mildly. Every reachable surface had been well and truly splatted. Not just one colour, either, but countless shades of yellow, and orange, and red, and blue, and... pink. _Lots_ of pink. Bucketloads of pink. In fact, Scott was amazed by the sheer variety of pinkiness that had transformed their mighty transporter into a giant candyfloss with wings.

Of course, their resident artist would be able to name all of these wondrous shades for him, and... hmm, maybe not. In brave but futile defence of his beloved 'bird, her giant bear of a pilot now looked like a poodle who'd had a few too many tints at the parlour. Yup, from head to toe, he'd been pink-ed all the way. And that irresistibly inevitable shot, right square on target... ooooooh, that must have hurt!

Another splutter of laughter must have betrayed him, since a murderous glare promised a whole world of pain for him too. And how nice of the evil genius who'd done all this in the first place to take refuge behind him! Jeez, what was he, a damn shield, and - uh oh. As six foot two of seriously ticked off brother strode towards them, Scott knew the first responder of International Rescue had to respond _real_ fast, or he'd need rescuing himself.

"Oh no, you don't," he muttered, reaching behind him, and grabbing his brother by the scruff of his shirt. Hauling him out to face his punishment, Scott then threw his fiercest glare into the cherubic face of the Devil incarnate.

"Seriously, Gordon, what have you got to say for yourself?"

'Sorry' would have been a good start. Or just something, _anything_ , to offer some kind of contrition. Ye-ah. Like he'd ever be that lucky.

"Hey, what about that last shot? Not bad, eh? 'specially for a first try on a moving target!"

Oh, God.

Yup, that 'moving target' was moving once more, striding straight towards them, and -

"Damn it, Gordon, get back out here!"

Tugging their very own Houdini back into view, Scott tried once more to avert the Tracy version of Armageddon.

"Right, as the instigator of all this, Gordon, _you_ get to clean it up. Starting with Two, you're going to get _all_ of this cleaned up. Right now. Clear?"

Adding just enough strength into that final word, Scott cast its equivalent glare towards a brother who, oddly enough, wasn't grinning quite so much as before. And he really couldn't blame Virgil for adding his own little sentence of punishment too.

"With his toothbrush. Under _my_ supervision."

Ooooh, nice touch! Nearly as good as that paintball shot, and... no, Scooter... whatever you do, Scoots, _don't look_! _Don't look_!

Too late. Glancing down at himself, Virgil then threw another threat-of-death glare towards his younger brother, and his oddly mesmerised guard.

"But first, I'm gonna get out of these nicely ruined clothes, so... Scott? Hey, _Scott_! Quit gawping, and keep the prisoner here 'til I get back, okay?"

Not daring to argue, and now _definitely_ not gawping, Scott just nodded - keeping a gently firm grip on Gordon's shirt as they watched a multi-coloured bear stride for the nearest stairs. Yes, the family peacemaker meant business, all right. And, needless to say, the family prankster didn't find it at all funny.

"Aww, _Scott_! That'll take _days_!"

Glancing around him, Scott had to admit his brother had a point. Even if they used the jet wash, this was going to take hours to clean up. More seriously, they had to restore Two to her professional best, in case they had a callout. Not even the most desperate rescuee would want to be saved by a bright pink Thunderbird, and -

' _Damn_ _it_ , _Gordon_! _Just quit with the puppy eyes already_! _That_ ' _s_ _m_ _y_ _trick_!'

Yeah, right. Whether through brown eyes or blue, that Tracy brother trait was just damn irresistible. And as his brother dragged him towards the jet wash, Scott knew this was a really, _really_ bad idea. If Gordon's aim with a wash-hose was as deadly as that for his paint-gun, this was a disaster waiting to happen.

Yup, right again. Within seconds of hooking it up, Scott was absolutely soaked - understandably sceptical to Gordon's insistence that, no, he really _hadn't_ done it on purpose.

But then Gordon's trademark grin re-appeared, bigger and broader than ever. When he realized why, Scott had to smile too. Right on cue, the cavalry had arrived.

Well, returned. Never one to stay angry for long, a freshly showered and re-clothed Virgil stood on the main staircase - grinning back down at them, while playfully waggling the two loads in his arms. Buckets and sponges in one, while in the other - aaah, a stroke of typically practical genius!

"Thought you two maniacs could use a little help."

Five minutes later, three members of the best rescue team in the world strode out to face their latest challenge. Suited and booted, three helmeted heads turned to glance at each other, trading the same grin of utter delight. Then, to yells and howls of laughter, Operation Clean Up let rip through the mother of water-fights.

*WHOOSH*

" _Owww_! Aww, _Virgil_!"

And, just like that innocent smirk, that blast of icy cold water that knocked Gordon Tracy flat on his back was just the freakiest kind of coincidence.


	18. Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Whoo hoo! My eighteenth chapter, and another suggestion from one of my lovely reviewers! Thanks so much to phoenix sparrow for this brilliant idea!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Eighteen - Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Being the eldest brother of five had its advantages. On a good day, if you were really, _really_ lucky, four little brothers listened to what you had to say, and actually did as you asked them. The two youngest looked up to you, in every sense of the term. Put you on the highest of pedestals, as the role model that every kid brother would happily follow.

Scott Tracy cherished all of these. There wasn't a big brother on Earth who loved this truly special role as much as he did. But if anyone ever asked him to name one of his most favourite things about being a big brother... well, the answer might just have surprised them. Because he'd have said - hair.

Yes, if there was a head of it within range, he just couldn't resist ruffling it. As John had dryly told him, it was the main reason why he stayed up on Five. For those left behind, though, there was no escape. And to various reactions, that were always so conveniently ignored -

" _Move that hand, or lose it_."

" _Hey_! _Go ruffle your own_!"

" _Awww_ , _Scoooooootttt_!"

\- Scott saw it as his big brotherly right in life to turn three neatly gelled headfuls of hair into the human version of an Old English Sheepdog.

But when his fingers got stuck in mops of black, and copper, and blond - yes, through a perfectly weighted sigh, he knew he had to say it.

" _Oooh_ , _someone needs a trim_."

With Virgil, of course, there'd be no problem. He'd just sit quietly with his favourite book, or latest composition, and let him get on with it - only growling his displeasure when those clicking scissors strayed a bit too close to his ears. Or when a few too many offcuts dropped into his lap.

" _Hey_! _You said a trim_ , _not a damn scalping_!"

But for Gordon and Alan, those fateful words were met with the same reaction as - horror of horrors! - being told to tidy their rooms.

" _Awwww, Scott_! _Do I have to_?"

When they said it together, of course, getting them onto that kitchen stool was like herding cats - hence his preference to tackle the Terrible Twins one at a time. As Virgil had gleefully pointed out, there were already hints of grey in his own, betrayingly dark head. For the sake of his constantly threatened sanity, he really didn't want to have to pluck out any more.

Then, of course, came the cajoling. The wheedling, the pleading, and... yeah, to hell with manly pride, just outright bribery too.

" _Come on_ , _Alan_ , _it_ ' _ll_ _only take a minute_."

" _Hey_ , _Gords_... _the quicker we get this done_ , _the quicker you can get back in the pool_."

" _Y_ ' _know_ , _Penny_ ' _s_ _sent over another box of her best cookies_!"

And sometimes - okay, most times - he just had to hustle the brother of choice in front of the nearest mirror, and treat him to a practical demonstration.

" _At this rate_ , _you_ ' _ll_ _be tying it up in bunches_... _so yes_ , _you really have to_."

Of course, when it came to his own hair, he couldn't cut it himself. And no way in hell would he trust any of his 'subjects' to do it for him. Where Gordon was concerned especially, he wouldn't trust them to pick out his clothes, let alone let them loose anywhere near his head.

Instead, he'd call on yet another perk of being big-brother-cum-ex-Air-Force-pilot, and take his own jet off to San Francisco for some personal 'me-time.'

So when he'd woken up that morning, and found himself staring at some indeterminate animal on top of his head - yes, that 'me-time' was definitely needed. After taming the beast with half a bottle of hair gel, he'd told Virgil to hold the fort, while _he_ paid a call on an old friend back on the mainland.

He'd said and done it so often that... well, it had become as comfortingly familiar as Luigi's ' _the_ _usual_ , _Scotty_?' Today, though, there'd be no cheery greeting from his old squadron's barber. No coffee, waiting for him by his specially assigned chair. No uproarious updates on what Joe, and Mac, and Buddy had been up to, or Maria's latest attempt to fatten him up with her _belissima_ apple pie.

Hell, he didn't even make it to ST1's hangar. Instead, as he reached the top of its accessway, he fell foul of a dastardly ambush.

"Okay, _NOW_!"

*floomp*

*floomp*

" _HEY_!"

Caught completely off guard, that was about the only protest that Scott could manage. But it wasn't over yet. Oh no, it wasn't over yet at all.

With two evilly grinning minions pinning down his arms, their equally evil master now tugged a pillowcase over his head, and slung him with worrying ease over his shoulder. And yes, he could wriggle and struggle as much as he liked, there wasn't a damn thing that Scott could do about it.

He'd been blindsided. Kidnapped - or was that brother-napped? - with such faultless teamwork that he'd been powerless to stop them. From the moment that pillowcase had been tugged over his head - yes, Scott Tracy knew he was in _serious_ trouble. If ever there was a time to assert his big brother authority, this was it.

"Hey! Put me _DOWN_!"

Yeah, like that was going to work. The only response he got were three sets of sniggering laughter, and a far from calming pat on his butt.

"All in good time, Scooter... all in good time."

Oh, God.

The last time they'd done this to him, they'd taken him outside, and tied him to a tree. Yeah, see if he'd ever glue Gordon's sneakers to the patio again. The sight of his startled brother flying into the pool had been priceless then - not so much afterwards.

Luckily, they were in a more benevolent mood this time. Or rather, as benevolent as three fiendish brother-nappers could get. Instead of that stubbly-trunked tree, they'd chosen a stool in the kitchen.

But not just _any_ stool. Oh no, it was _the_ stool, complete with a re-fit that he wished he'd invented himself. Yes, that old flight harness was a stroke of genius. Just not so much when _he_ was the one who was strapped inside it!

Now well and truly restrained, Scott glanced nervously around him. Scott's Salon, it seemed, had a new and still highly reluctant customer. And Virgil's next orders really didn't help him feel any better.

"Now, Doctor Gordon... my instruments for surgery."

"Right away, Doctor Virgil."

His _what_?! Oh, God, they had to be kidding!

Oh, no. No, they weren't.

"Hey, doc? You mean these?" Gordon grinned, waggling their bush-pruning shears with way too much glee for his eldest brother's liking.

Virgil, damn him, was grinning too, with enough manic pleasure to make Sweeney Todd look like Mary Poppins. Flashing those blades in front of his brother's wide, now seriously freaked out eyes.

"So, then... how much would 'sir' like me to take off?"

How much?! _How much_?!

" ** _NONE OF IT_**!"

A clear, concise, emphatic answer - but clearly one that the demon barber of Tracy Island didn't agree with.

"So, then... a _really_ nice trim."

*snip*

"Gaaaaaahhhh!"

"Aww, for crying out loud, Scott! That was just a bit of air-practice, I wasn't anywhere near you!"

As if that wasn't bad enough, the Terrible Twins just had to get in on the act too, didn't they? Oh yeah, of course they did.

*ruffle*

*ruffle*

"Oooh, _someone_ needs a trim!"

At any other time, he might have enjoyed Gordon's worryingly accurate mimicry. But not today.

"Just you wait 'til I'm out of this chair! I'm gonna ground you 'til you're old enough to retire!"

Ooooops. Wrong thing to say.

*snip*

No air practice this time. Or shears, that had been thankfully placed on the table beside him. Instead, a large tuft of deep brown hair dropped into his lap. Needless to say, he wasn't at all happy about it.

"Damn it, _Virgil_!"

"Yes, Scott?"

*snip*

*waggle*

As those damn shears were waved in front of him, Scott sighed. Screwed his eyes tight shut, and promised himself a whole day at Luigi's to repair the damage.

"Never mind."

Resigned to his Fate, and with those scissors now dangerously close to his ears, he sat quietly. Hoped those gentle tugs and 'click-click-clicks' weren't as drastic as they felt and sounded. To him, it felt like an awful lot was being lopped off, and... ye-ah. Maybe, just maybe, Virgil had been right on that whole scalping thing.

Finally, with two pats on his shoulders, it was over. Virgil, his voice full of amused affection, brought him the moment that he almost couldn't bear to face.

"So, then... is 'sir' happy with that?"

Maybe it was the laughter in his brother's voice, or his own curiosity, but... damn it, Scott couldn't not look. Staring at his mirrored reflection, his eyes grew so wide that they almost rolled out of their sockets. His mouth fell open. And, really, how thoughtful of Virgil to nudge his finger underneath it, and so kindly close it for him. To say he had a new look was... well, the understatement of all time.

Oh, he still had the same headful of hair. To his surprise, not to mention relief, most of it was still there. But now it had - embellishments. Clips, and slides, and bows, and ribbons. And where he knew he had every right to give these three miscreants the mother of lashings, Scott found himself smiling too - laughing out loud as they lined up in front of him. Since they were enjoying this moment too much to say it themselves, the placards in their hands had to do it for them.

NO. MORE. RUFFLES!

Still laughing, Scott raised his hands as best he could. Accepted their point with the same good nature as, joy of joys, the restraints around him were gently released. Rising to his feet, he drew each brother in turn into a forgiving hug. Let three pairs of hands restore his crowning glory to just good old fashioned, unembellished brown.

Reconciled in the happiest, highest spirits, he then reached across Gordon's shoulders, to where Alan's head lay just in range beyond them, and -

" _Hey_! Awwwww, _Scott_!"

\- oh, _damn it_!


	19. Animal Magic

Hello, folks, and welcome to chapter nineteen!

Now, hard as it is to believe, I'm sure Gordon wasn't always the prank-loving scamp that he'd been portrayed to be. Still prone to the odd tiny-tantrum, though, especially when his favourite toy needs to be washed. Luckily, the world's best big brother is on hand to make it all better again.

This chapter is set shortly after Lucy's death, and the family's move to Tracy Island, so it'll be a bit more serious than its predecessors. It's also my thoughts on how Gordon came to love the sea so much.

You'll also notice that a certain toy makes a re-appearance. Yes, if with a different owner this time - Buggles is back!

As always, I hope you enjoy! Oh, and stay tuned for the next chapter. I think the bunnies are rustling up a sequel!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Nineteen - Animal Magic

Washing your little brother's favourite plushie. Seriously, how hard could it be?

" ** _NO_**!"

If it belonged to Gordon Cooper Tracy - _very_. And, just like big brother Virgil, and big brother John, he now left biggest brother Scott with an all too familiar problem. How to resolve this battle of wills without causing more upset. God knew, there'd been too much of that already.

Of course, it was a hopelessly one sided contest. A pint sized five year old was never going to beat his bigger, taller, stronger brother. But what little Gordy lacked in height and vocabulary, he more than made up for with irresistible cuteness. Even if he was too young to understand why, it took some of that sadness out of his big brother's eyes. Made him smile again, and shake his head, the way Scotty just always seemed to do.

Teamed up with those big brown eyes - damn, but that pout was priceless! Put a bit more weight on him, turn that coppery blond hair to black, and... yes, Virgil would have his very own mini-me.

His placidly quiet brother had never thrown such a tantrum over _his_ blankie, or favourite toy. Then again, their lives then were a world away from what they were now. For a still traumatized little boy, this new home was still a big and scary place. So yes, that goofy faced rabbit was needed more than ever now. But, through so much use these last few days, it was absolutely filthy. One way or another, it had to get cleaned.

"C'mon, Gordy, I've _got_ to wash him," he said at last, dropping onto his heels, and drawing his still tearful brother into a soothing hug. "See, he's _real_ dirty... and you don't want to be carrying something that's all yucky and stinky, do you?"

Hmmm. Wrong thing to say. Gordon was nodding his head instead of shaking it. Frowning, as he always did when his big brothers told him something he didn't understand. Or, as Scott was rapidly discovering, something he just didn't want to do. And, right now, he did _not_ want to give up his most treasured comforter.

That lower lip was starting to quiver again, too, and... come on, Scooter! With dad away, you've got to handle this, real fast!

Something he couldn't explain made him glance outside. Beyond the patio, and the pool, where a secluded beach held all sorts of exciting new worlds. Through a puzzled, grateful smile, it gave him the perfect solution.

"Tell you what... while Mr Buggles is getting all nice and clean again, why don't _we_ go on a special adventure? See what we can find in our magic lagoon?"

Aaaand - bingo. A giggly smile instead of heart-wrenching tears - followed by a hug that threatened to strangle him. Not that he minded. Hell, he loved them too much for that thought to even enter his mind.

Watching his brother scuttle off to their 'special adventure' closet to fetch his kit, Scott breathed a sigh of real relief. Yes, with John, it had been books, with Virgil his paints and toy piano - but the surest way to calm _this_ little brother down was to take him to that little rock pool on the beach, and show him all the cool stuff inside it.

First, though, came the more serious task of cleaning up Mr Buggles. Still, Scott Tracy was nothing if not resourceful. All he had to do was prop him up against the side of the sink-bowl, squirt in some soap, whip up some bubbles, and - voila! Mr Buggles was relaxing in his very own spa.

Ah yes - the odd skills you learn when you become a big brother. Such a simple thing, too, but one that turned you from Mr Cleanie Meanie into Captain Hero. Best of all, it left both of them smiling as they set off down the path that led down to the beach.

Gordon, of course, had come prepared for everything that this little adventure might bring. Buckets, spades, his little fishy net, and even some old glass jars, in case they found something that he wanted to get a _really_ good look at. Funny, though, that _he_ wasn't the one who had to carry it all. Somewhere in this bright idea, Scott mused, he hadn't quite thought it all the way through.

He wasn't looking where he was going either - finding out a fraction too late that he'd just stepped on a wet piece of seaweed. A very _slippery_ piece of seaweed.

" _Whoooooooaaaaa_!"

*kwoooossh*

"Oooooh, I'm gonna feel that later."

Scratch that. He was feeling it right now. A jagged lump of rock, right at the base of his spine, and enough of a winding impact to make him see stars. Then, gradually, those flashing lights were blotted out by a mop of copper blond hair. A little brother who, needless to say, had found all this hysterically funny.

"You're all wet! But nice an' clean too... like Mr Buggles gonna be."

Oh, great. Not only was he soaking wet, he was also being compared to a stuffed rabbit. Yes, the joys of being a big brother just knew no limits.

All sarcasm aside, Scott still couldn't help but grin as he climbed gingerly to his feet, and wrung himself out. If providing such entertainment to his little brothers was to be his lot in life, then... well, he might as well get used to it.

Of course, such concerns would never trouble Gordon, whose concept of brotherly love still... well, needed a bit more work on its priorities.

"But the fish are okay... look!"

Yup. Brotherly love at its absolute best. And that same ' _I_ - _don_ ' _t_ - _know_ - _why_ - _you_ ' _re_ - _laughing_ - _so_ - _I_ ' _m_ - _just_ - _gonna_ - _laugh_ - _too_ ' innocence that made him all wibbly inside.

"Well, I'm real glad about that," Scott grinned, pointing to where a small shoal of bright yellow fish was nosing back up to the surface. "Yeah, no harm done. You see how quickly they've come out from their hiding places? Looks like they really want to come up and say hello."

To a five year old, of course, that meant only one thing - to lie flat out on your tummy, so you could get _real_ close to these fascinating new friends.

Stretching himself out beside him, Scott also found himself witnessing a minor miracle. His devil of a little brother, now completely enthralled by this exciting new world. Wiggling his fingers through the water, Gordon finally glanced back at him, his eyes bright with the purest kind of happiness.

"Wow, Scotty, did - did you see that? That little fish came right up to me, an' _kissed_ my _finger_!"

"Yes, Gordy, I saw him. Yeah, he's real friendly, isn't he?" Scott chuckled, indulging his own inner child as he reached into the water, and scooped up a small frog. "And this little guy here? He's a frog. See? He's got little legs instead of fins, and he likes to hop, as well as swim. See?"

Prompted by a gently nudging finger, a rather startled frog jumped onto a neighbouring rock, and crawled up to its summit. Deciding these two curious creatures didn't pose any serious threat, it then jumped back into the water, and treated them to their very own display of froggy-crawl, before diving beneath the surface.

Following him down, the endless curiosity of a five year old then found a new target.

"Scott? What's _that_?!"

Studying the 'that' in question, Scott then grinned - gently scooping up a handful so that Gordon could see it more clearly.

"This is frog spawn, Gords... that's where baby frogs come from."

Poking it - because, of course, that was something he just _had_ to do - Gordon pulled a face to suggest he wasn't that much impressed.

"Uuuughhh! It's like Grandma's jelly, with currants inside."

Okay, so a bit rough on their grandmother's cooking skills, but Scott still had to laugh as he placed that 'curranty jelly' back where he'd found it.

"Yeah, bud, but I don't think Grandma would be too happy about that... so let's just keep that as our little secret, okay?"

Sealing this pact with a snuggling hug, Scott then tried to find something else for them to study. Something that didn't bear any kind of resemblance to their grandmother's cooking. By the time they'd pored over some sea urchins, a palette of brightly coloured coral, and named a shoal of blennies, it was getting late enough for them to head back to the house.

Like all brave explorers, Gordon couldn't wait to tell his other brothers about it. As John and Virgil ruefully discovered, right down to _every_... _last_... _detail_. In fact, he was so excited about his 'special adventure' that he didn't even notice how Mr Buggles had found a new owner. Even when he did, the tantrum that Scott had expected turned instead into a moment to cherish.

"That's okay, Allie can keep him."

Awww, brotherly love after all.

"'sides, I'm _much_ too old for cuddly toys now."

Oooookay, maybe not.

"Yeah, Gordy, of course you are," Scott chuckled, still laughing as he and Virgil traded knowing glances. Every one of the plushies in their brother's room had names, and if just one of them were to go missing... yeah, there'd be hell to pay.

But not tonight. Instead, five happily fed brothers snuggled down on the couch, all set for that night's range of cartoons and 'bigger brother stuff' until they went to bed, and -

"Now then, Scott Carpenter Tracy... what's all this I hear about _my_ jelly looking like frog spawn?"

\- _oooooooops_.


	20. Guppy Love

Yup, I was right! My plot bunnies from the last chapter inspired this one too. And since Scott and Wee!Gordon make such an adorable team, I thought you'd enjoy a few more moments to make you go "awwwww!" (and poor Scott to go "ARRGGGGHHHH!")

Enjoy!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Twenty - Guppy Love

Half way through filling the kettle, Scott turned off the tap, and frowned. Blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, then stared at the sight in front of him as his mind tried to rationalize it.

Yes, it _was_ freakishly hot, so he could be forgiven for thinking he was seeing things. And yes, all sorts of alarm bells had now started to ring. Because he wasn't dreaming, or imagining things. There really was a line of glass jars on the worktop in front of him, that hadn't been there when he'd washed up for breakfast.

They weren't empty either, or being used to store any kind of cookie. Nope, each of them were filled with water - and held a brightly coloured fish.

Reading through the scrawl of their names - Splishy, Splashy, Flibbles, Nibbles and Wiggles - he didn't know whether to burst into laughter, or go back to his room and crawl under the duvet.

"Hey, Scotty! You see my pet fish?!"

Of course, there was also the third option. To turn and face the innocently proud owner of five, no doubt rather bemused guppies. But that only led to another dilemma - how to look all stern and serious, when that innocently proud owner beamed with such happiness.

"Yes, Gordy, I can... uh, see them just fine," he said at last, giving in to a helpless grin as Gordon climbed onto the stool beside him, and reached out for the obligatory hug. All 'surprise pets' aside, he'd never turn down the chance of a brotherly cuddle.

Even so, more serious issues still had to be resolved, and... oh, boy. He really, _really_ , didn't want to ask this next question.

"And they're all real pretty to look at, but... um... how did they get here?"

" _I_ did!"

' _Uh huh_.'

"I caught 'em in my fishy net..."

'... _yeah_ , _of course you did_...'

"...then put 'em in these jars... with a nice lot of water, so they could still swim, then brought 'em up here..."

'... _well_ , _I_ ' _m_ _gonna_ _hate myself for saying this_ , _buddy_ , _but_...'

"...all by myself!"

"...you did _ what_?!"

That last thought must have exploded through his mouth, since two big brown eyes were now blinking nervously in front of him. A lower lip poked out into a quivering pout, while a tiny voice broke through all those ' _what if_?' scenarios, and silently broke his heart.

"Did - Did I do somethin' wrong, Scotty? Is that why you're all mad at me?"

Oh, _hell_!

Taking a deep breath, Scott then forced out a smile, and shook his head. He'd finish having those kittens later. Right now, he needed to calm himself down, and find a way to settle his little brother down too.

"Well, Gordy, you were... you know, really brave to go down to that beach on your own," he said at last, settling onto the stool behind him, and gently lifting Gordon into his lap. "But you remember what I've told you before? That if you want to go there, then you've got to take me, or John, or Virgil with you?"

Still dangerously close to tears, Gordon just nodded against his chest - a telltale sniffle causing him to wince as he gently rocked him calm again. Okay, so all sorts of awful scenarios had flashed through his mind, but this wasn't the time to try and explain them to a confused and tearful five year old. As he'd realized, just a tad too late, to do so would only upset him even more.

Instead, Scott just stuck to what he did best. Cuddling his little brother, hushing and reassuring him, until the sniffles stopped, and two still glistening brown eyes peeped up at him from under his fringe.

"I - I know you did, Scott, but... but you were playing with Allie... an' Virgil an' John were busy too."

Thankfully unseen, Scott winced once more. No-one loved being a big brother more than he did, but at times like this - damn it, there just wasn't enough of him to go around. Again, though, he'd deal with that later. Where he couldn't give Gordon his attention before, he could definitely give it to him now.

"Well, Allie's gone down for his nap now," he said at last, brushing away the last tears on Gordon's cheeks, before gently tousling his hair. "And, you know, that was a really nice thing you did for him the other night... giving him Mr Buggles to play with, it's really helping him to stay nice and happy while he's asleep... like he did for you, when you were all little like him."

Compared to his older brothers, of course, Gordon was still pretty small himself. But, to Scott's relief, that didn't matter right now. Those few words of proud approval were all, and everything, that his little brother had needed to hear. Sniffles and tears had turned into the smile that, as always, had reduced him to a puddle of goo.

"So does this mean I can keep em, Scott? I'll take real good care of them!"

Yeah, like he hadn't seen _that_ coming. And from so many years of multi-brother practice in saying 'no', he knew exactly how to deal with it.

"Well, Gordy, it's really not..."

" _Pleeeeaaaassse_?"

Yup, that did it. The world's most long suffering big brother, reduced to a wibbling wreck by just one little word. And one of these days, Scott dryly told himself, he'd find a way to resist it. But not today. Knowing his luck, not _any_ day.

"Well, if it's okay with dad, then... yeah, I don't see why not," he said at last, holding up a hand to quell the imminent jumps of joy.

Yeah, he'd learned that lesson the hard way. Bouncing little brothers on his lap tended to get a bit... well, painful if they overdid it. Or if a stray foot landed where he really didn't want it to, and... hmmm. Yet another explanation, that he'd leave for a more appropriate time.

More immediately, he had to find a new home for his little brother's new pets. Yes, if there was a prize out there for being the world's most resourceful big brother, Scott was sure his name should be at the top of its list.

"But we can't keep them in these jars, Gords... if you're going to look after them properly, we've got to find something much bigger for them to swim around in."

To him, of course, it was a serious business. But to a five year old, it meant another 'special adventure.' One that required his very best adventure gear. And by the time he'd returned from his bedroom, and Scott had stopped laughing, his big brother just didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't needed. Instead, with one small but perfectly dressed little explorer tugging at his hand, Scott set off on a _very_ special mission.

Luckily, he already had a fair idea on where to start looking. Many of their packing crates were still in storage in the utility room near the pool. If it had survived the journey, Scott was sure that one of them included an old tank that their mother had used as an indoor greenhouse. Now all they had to do was find it, and... _whoa_! Yeah, no wonder they'd been left in here, that was... um... an awful lot of crates!

Of course, it would save a lot of time if they split up, and searched their own share of boxes, and -

"...oooooooohhh!"

\- oooookay, maybe not.

Grabbing him before he disappeared completely, Scott set Gordon back on his feet, and took a moment to get his heart rate back to normal. As far as he knew, there weren't any mountaineers or potholers in their family ancestry, but... well, if anyone was going to buck that trend, it was going to be Gordon. Just getting him to stay in his crib had been nigh on impossible, so unleashing him on these massive crates... yep, that was one big no-no.

"Okay, Gords? I know you're a big, brave explorer, but I don't want you getting lost... so let's leave the whole searching bit to me, okay?"

Answered with a grin that was either genuinely innocent, or innocently evil, Scott just smiled too - nudging a harmlessly small box into range, and waiting until Gordon was safely distracted, before returning to his search.

Three crates, and several splinters later, his patience paid off. Thankfully intact, and poignant enough to bring tears to his eyes, one soon-to-be fish tank rested in his lap. And where _he_ was happy to find it, that went a hundred times over for Gordon.

"Yeeee-aaaah! Scotty, you're the best big brother _ev_ - _er_!"

"Yeah, buddy, you won't get any arguments from me," Scott grinned, carefully stowing his find into a canvas sack, before rising to his feet. "Okay, we've got our tank... now let's go find out how we can make it into a proper home for..."

"...Splishy, Splashy, Flibbles, Nibbles and Wiggles!" Gordon finished for him, still too buzzy with happiness to ask why his big brother found that so funny.

For the same odd reason, John and Virgil found it all curiously funny too. Still, Gordon didn't really mind about that. He was happy just to sit snuggled between them, and watch them help Scott make his special 'fishy house.' Virgil had to do some hammering, and Scott slipped on another piece of seaweed when he went down to the beach for some 'furnishy bits', but finally they were done.

Even if it had left him with a twisted ankle to go with his still bruised back, Scott had to admit their collective effort had been more than worth it. The joy on Gordon's face alone, as Splishy, Splashy, Flibbles, Nibbles and Wiggles were all gently transferred into their new home, was worth every twinge of discomfort.

Of course, he also had the extra comfort of an Alan-shaped teddy bear. Yes, nothing like all these snuggling cuddles to help you feel all better again - especially when Gordon, never to be outdone by his baby brother, curled himself up against his other side.

Lulled into this cosy sense of security, it never occurred to him that a far less innocent motive lurked beneath it. All that ended, though, when Alan, who'd been studying Mr Buggles with a curious depth of interest, then plonked him onto his stomach - and left his eldest brother completely lost for words.

"Want _real_ bunny."


	21. Close Encounters Of The Furred Kind

Hm, my plot bunnies have gone a bit hyper hoppy with this idea! Still, I can't blame them. I guess this mid season break is dragging as much for them as it is for me. And since I love all things cute and cuddly (Tracy brothers included!), I couldn't resist writing this third chapter to finish it off.

As always, I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Oh, Brother!

Chapter Twenty One - Close Encounters Of The Furred Kind

Where his brothers were concerned, and as long as it wasn't illegal, there was nothing Scott wouldn't do for them. So letting Gordon have those five guppies as pets should have been simple, right? As thanks for being the best big brother in the world, that _should_ have been that.

Yeah, like he'd ever be that lucky.

Blissfully innocent to the chaos that had followed, Alan had announced that he wanted a _real_ bunny, instead of a stuffed one. Seizing this chance to torment their eldest brother even more than they did already, Virgil and John had gotten in on the act too - their respective suggestions of kittens and gerbils prompting the same groan of _'you've-gotta-be-kidding-me_!' dismay.

Damn it, even dad had joined in. Listening to his boys pleading their case for all things cute and cuddly, Jeff had smiled, if sadly wistfully - and left his eldest son in deep, deep trouble.

" _Don't_ _forget_ , _Scott... you were just the same when you kept asking your mother and me for a puppy_."

Ye-ah. That had _really_ done it.

" _YAAAAAAYYY! WE'RE GETTING A PUPPY_!"

For a still grieving father and husband, that yell of delight had brought a bittersweet mix of amusement and 'what-might-have-been' regrets. But as four overjoyed faces had reminded him, it was too late to go back on his word now. To do so would only hurt his boys even more. And, as their counsellor had told him, giving them this responsibility of caring for their first real pet would help them all to heal.

It had also left Scott in the unenviable situation that he was facing now. Keeping four exhaustingly excited little brothers under control, while their father flew them out to San Francisco for a _very_ special treat.

Well, almost. Yet another 'business trip' for dad, and the now familiar task of babysitting for him. Glancing behind him, to where John, Virgil and Gordon were still arguing over what kind of puppy they were going to get, Scott had to wonder how he was going to do it.

Still, at least Alan hadn't been part of that ongoing debate. Snuggled in his lap, the ever faithful Buggles tucked at his side, his youngest brother had been as good as gold - watching their father with wide, captivated eyes. As their dad had dryly observed, he'd finally found a way to keep him quiet.

To their further amusement, Alan had even tried to copy his movements - flying his own 'magic plane' to wherever his imagination had chosen to take him, until the snuggly warmth of his brother's lap had lulled him to sleep.

Of course, such peaceful quiet had only lasted while they'd been up in the air. As soon as they'd touched down, he'd woken up - all bright eyed and bushy tailed, while eagerly quizzing his biggest big brother about all things bunny.

How big did they get? Did they like to be huggled? Why did they have such big ears? Could you train them to go fetch? Roll over? Do tricks? Could you take them to bed with you, like you could do with Mr Buggles? And, most important of all, could you love them really much, and still love Mr Buggles too?

By the time he'd finished answering that little set of gems -

"... _bigger than a mouse_ , _but smaller than a doggie_..."

"... _yes_ , _bunnies were just like big brothers_ , _and loved their huggles_..."

"... _so they can hear you coming to play with them_..."

"... _no_... _no_... _and_ , _uh_... _no_..."

"... _unless you want to wake up covered in bunny fur_... _no_..."

"... _because you're so full of love and huggles_... _yes, you can love them both, with huggles to spare_..."

\- and did the same for the 'all things puppy' questions from John, Virgil and Gordon, Scott had almost, _almost_ , been ready to ask his father if _he_ could come on that business trip too. But then he'd glanced back along that line of four eagerly hopeful faces, and he'd smiled too. Given the choice between spending all day with those stuffy businessmen, and his four little brothers - hell, he'd take those four little brothers every time.

Within seconds of them entering Pat's Puurrrrfect Pets, that depth of brotherly love came in for a bit of a re-think.

Like missiles on legs, John, Virgil and Gordon all shot off in all directions - leaving Scott struggling to keep sight of them, while _he_ had several litters of proverbial kittens. But then some welcome help arrived, as the storekeeper pointed to the surveillance pod above them, and offered him an empathising smile. Petshop owners, it seemed, needed eyes in the backs of their heads just as much as freaked out big brothers.

"Don't worry, son, I've got eyes on every one of 'em... and they look pretty happy to me," he grinned, pointing to the images of John, Virgil and Gordon, all standing around a small enclosure, and cooing over whatever was housed inside it.

Smiling too, Scott had to admit he wished he'd thought of this sooner. No better way, it seemed, to keep a little brother quiet than to plonk him in front of some cute furry animals. Virgil was now sitting on the floor, surrounded by pouncing kittens, while John was trying, in vain, to stop one of them from climbing up his leg. Gordon, though, had now moved away from them and back into Scott's view - captivated by a fish tank so massive, he could have dived inside it, with room to spare.

Waving back at him, Scott felt his smile widen to an even happier grin. For the first time since their mother's death, his brothers looked... well, happy, like they'd been before she'd died. It was a curious feeling, but still one that brought him a relieving sense of comfort.

Of course, he still had Alan to deal with, and... well, luckily, his littlest brother was still right there beside him. Or, rather, behind him. Yes, when someone you didn't know kept making these funny faces at you, your big brother's legs became your very own hidey-tree.

Gently coaxing him back out into the open, Scott lifted him up, giving him the best kind of reassuring cuddle there was, before pointing to a nearby row of cages.

"Allie, look over there... just look at all those..."

"... _BUNNIES_!"

Aaaaaand - bingo. Toddlery shyness gave way to a delighted yell, and the kind of _'lemme go_!' wriggle that could only ever have one outcome.

Setting him back on the floor, Scott watched him scuttle off to the 'bunny houses' with a fondly proud smile. Kittens plus bunnies plus four happily laughing brothers equalled a moment for him to cherish.

Just a tad too late, he also had to think about the downsides to all this innocent happiness. That, given any kind of chance, his brothers would forget all about dad's rule that they could have one pet each, and see how many others they could sneak past him.

Of course, he still hadn't found or chosen his own pet yet, and -

*wroof*

\- yes, if his heart hadn't been claimed and turned to a puddle of slush before, it surely was now.

Despite his mother's teasing, it had nothing to do either, with finding his first girlfriend. Instead, he found himself smitten by... well, he neither knew nor cared.

In terms of breed, he had no idea which one this puppy belonged to. It was as if several different kinds had been tossed in a pot, and resulted in the tiny bundle of fluff who'd succeeded where all those girls in Junior High had failed.

Yes, from that moment, Scott Tracy was doomed. The smile on his face turned into a fully dimpled grin as he dropped onto his heels, and gave those ridiculously floppy ears a tousling scratch.

"Hey, fella, you like that?" he chuckled, laughing even more as the puppy rolled onto its back, all four paws peddling in delight as Scott gave him the mother of tummy rubs.

Enjoying this moment just as much, the storekeeper nodded approvingly. A lifelong pet lover, he abhorred any kind of cruelty - hence the taint of disgust in his voice when he finally spoke.

"Yeah, I found him last week... I've tried to find his owner, but... well, he isn't tagged, and he ate like a horse when I put some food down for him... my guess is he's been dumped... guess whoever had him just didn't love him enough to look after him."

Horrified by such heartless actions, Scott was frowning too - but not for long. To his new friend's eyes, such an unhappy face meant only one thing. That you had to jump into this tummy-rubbing human's arms, and try to lick it off.

His first human hadn't liked it. Maybe that was why he'd gone away so suddenly. But _this_ human - yes, if it made him make those funny sounds again, he must like it an awful lot.

Still laughing, Scott held the puppy up in front of him, and tried to re-assert some kind of authority against the epitome of puppy dog eyes.

"Okay, you little scamp... yes, I've got a lovely clean face now, thank you... so enough already, okay?"

Ye-ah. If he'd ever wondered where that saying had come from, he surely had his answer now. When it came to heart-melting appeal, the big brown eyes of his two younger brothers had nothing on these. And, so poignantly, he was so close now, to having the pet that he'd craved for since he was... what, Gordon's age? Alan's?

Damn, was it really that long ago? Where the hell had his childhood gone?

Lost in these more serious thoughts, it took him some moments to realize that the storekeeper was speaking again - and several more to appreciate what he was saying.

"Yeah, good luck with that... if the size of those paws is anything to go by, you'll have a real fight on your hands when he gets bigger."

Glancing down at the paws which merely hinted at how big this puppy was going to get, Scott started to smile again. Surprise, then hopeful uncertainty lit up his eyes.

"You - You mean I can keep him? I mean, I didn't think he was for sale, and... well..."

Clearly impressed by such honest integrity, the storekeeper grinned - returning it in kind as he nodded to where the puppy had climbed onto Scott's shoulder, nuzzling happily against his neck.

"Well, as I see it, he's just been staying here with me until he chose someone who would love him... give him the home he really deserves, and... yes, son, I'd say you're it... and since he didn't cost me anything, he won't cost you anything either."

Smiling back at him, Scott had to admit he was pretty glad about that. Even if his own pet was going to come for free, all the accessories to come with it was going to take a sizeable chunk out of his allowance.

Of course, Scott knew that he could comfortably afford it, but... well, even for the son of one of the richest men in the world, some things were beyond any kind of monetary price.

For him, it was a ticklishly licking tongue, and a happily wagging tail, as the pile beside him grew bigger and bigger. Beds, food bowls, blankets, toys, books on care and exercise, and... yup. At this rate, he'd have to tell dad they'd need a bigger plane.

Luckily, they were coming down to the smaller stuff now. An adjustable collar, a name tag - Scamp seemed oddly appropriate - and its own equally essential accessory.

"These are the best leashes we have... strong enough to let you control him as he grows without hurting him," the storekeeper explained, still smiling as he nodded once more towards Scamp's paws. "Like I said, he hasn't even started growing yet, so... yeah, you're gonna need it to keep him in line."

"Yeah, I bet," Scott grinned, rolling his eyes through Scamp's latest attempt to lick his face off as he glanced back at his brothers.

Yes, they were all quiet now, still cooing over their respective cages and tanks, but Scott knew it wouldn't last. Keeping his new puppy out of mischief was nothing against the chaos that four little brothers could cause, and - aha!

Yes, there were times when Scott Carpenter Tracy was an outright genius.

Turning back to the storekeeper, a wicked grin perfectly matched the glint in his eyes as he pointed to the leash-stand behind him.

"Actually, could you make that five?"


End file.
